Oh, Injustice
by one-hep-cat
Summary: revision mode. Wufei must have been truly unjust in a previous life because Justice is biting back. Hard. Now he's stuck in a fair predicament... he's in love with a pilot he can't stand! rated for language, violence, and lemonade.
1. Chapter 1

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Yaoi. Violence. Lots of horrible language. Lemonade. –Grin- First person, present tense. Flame if you must. But the world is already filled with such misery! I will truly recommend you read something you actually enjoy instead! Creative criticism I think I'm big enough to handle._

_Disclaimer: My policy is to only say it once. I don't own GW or anything related to it. Though I like to pretend Duo is mine –wink-. Naturally, any original characters are mine._

**Chapter 1:**

'_I really hate you, you bastard._' He's sitting there, in the Gundam next to mine, tuning up Death with a smile in his face. Probably a song in his heart too. Fool. He's always an extreme- happy or angry, completely obvious or completely oblivious, and never in between. Right now I think he's oblivious. Oblivious to what I'm feeling. And right now that's okay. I don't want it obvious anyway. You see… there is something I've figured out recently. I'm in love with him. Bastard.

I'm disgusted with myself. Not because he's a man, mind you. No, I believe you can fall in love with whoever you damn well please. Love knows no gender. It just is. No, it's not his gender. It's _him_. As a person. Himself. Get it? If I have to fall in love with a man, or _anyone_ for that matter, why does it have to be _him_? Khushrenada would've been the obvious choice, if you were to ask me. If I chose to answer such a foolish question, that is. Or maybe Merquise, if I were more the desperate sort. But no. No. _I_, Chang Wufei, had to fall in love with Duo fucking Maxwell.

I try to figure out why. What can I _possibly_ like about him? His personality has no redeeming qualities. He's loud, obnoxious, hardheaded, and tactless. He talks too much, is completely irrational, and has little to no sense of true justice. He makes his own brand. Or perhaps he doesn't even know the meaning of the word. I've never been able to figure that one out. His sense of right and wrong baffles me. It doesn't match with mine. I'm pretty sure mine are more logical than his, even if these I have feelings are completely _ill_ogical.

"'Ey Heero! You working on Wing?" I hear him shout. I wince. He's so damn loud. And jovial.

'_How can Shinigami be that way? With all the death you render? Tell me that one, Maxwell._'

Glancing down from Nataku, whom I'm supposed to be tuning instead of neglecting, I see Yuy walking across the platform to Wing. As usual, he ignores Maxwell. Though I imagine that, if he felt like talking, he would say something along the lines of "Mind your own damned business." It's what _I_ feel like saying.

…_Right_.

I glance at Maxwell. He is leaning forward in Death, watching him, chin propped in one hand. A stupid smile on his face. That's another problem. He's in love with Yuy. It's so blindingly obvious that even _I've_ picked up on it. And I don't even pay attention to him. That much. Until recently.

See, he's no good at hiding things no matter how hard he tries. And he tries. I suppose I can give him credit for effort. If I must. I think the only one who's never noticed is Yuy, but that's only because he's more oblivious than Maxwell is when it comes to understanding people.

I sit back in Nataku and sigh. What _is_ there to like about him? I glance at the object of my unwarranted desires. It must be the hair. All that damned shimmering chestnut hair. I'm disgusted with the thought. Don't get me wrong. It's nice hair. But I never thought I'd be so shallow to be a 'hair' guy.

Nataku, I am weak. If you want, you can self-destruct. Take me and these foolish feeling with you.

… Damn.

Again, I sigh. As usual, Nataku, you don't listen to me. I guess if I want to self-destruct I have to press the button myself. Damn again. I'm too weak for that right now. Where is justice when I need it? Give me justice!

I hear the sound of footsteps. I look out again and see Maxwell crossing the hangar floor. Probably going to offer advice that he knows Yuy won't accept. Fool. I don't understand why he gives it anyway. It's a waste of time and effort. "You're better off talking to a brick wall," I want to say. I _do_ say. He just doesn't hear it. It's not like he'd heed my words if he did.

Not even a minute later he emerges again. Yuy must have not been in the mood to listen to him.

'_Did he threaten to kill you again? I wouldn't do that, you know. I'd actually carry it out. Or not. Why do you let him? But still you are smiling. How can you do that?'_

He glances at Wing, shakes his head, and off he goes. His chestnut braid flicks across the small of his back as he walks. Damn the hair.

Gah. I hate him and everything he stands for. And fuck it all... I love him too. Listen to me. _He's_ an idiot? Ugh. _I'm_ the idiot here. With a grunt, I turn away from the view. I'm fed up with you, Maxwell.

I pick up a wrench and finally get to work. Nataku, I've neglected you. I apologize.

----

It's dinnertime now. I am late of course, finishing up Nataku's repairs. I _would_ have completed them on time if a certain stupid pilot had stayed out of the hangar. Perhaps I really _should_ do what Yuy is always threatening to do. Kill Maxwell. It would be easy, right? Like squashing a bug. Of course, then I'd be a fugitive. The other pilots, save Yuy perhaps, would want _me_ dead. And I suppose I just can't murder someone out of cold blood. It's against my training and oh the guilt…

Damn. I suppose he'll live.

Curse these feelings!

"Wufei! Are you going to eat anytime soon? I'm sure quality time with your Gundam seems more important, but we growing boys need nourishment! So I brought you some food anyway."

I look over Nataku's edge and there Maxwell stands. He's waving a bag in one hand and eating the huge sandwich that's in the other. Honestly, that guy eats like a bird- twice his body weight. And it's a surprise considering he's still rail thin. I suppose all his boundless energy makes him burn it off.

"Wufei, you can hear me right?" He's shouting louder.

I straighten and blink. Dammit, I'm acting like him. Staring longingly at such an exquisite- I shake my head. As if I'd stand a chance with him mooning over Yuy. "I'm not-" Shit, my voice sounds funny. I clear my throat and try again. "I'm not hungry. I've got things to do. Don't bother me."

"Harsh as always. I'll leave it on the control panel." He turns and walks off, that shimmering chestnut braid flicking maddeningly across his back. And foolish me, I stare. And I _want_.

"Hey… what is in the bag?" And immediately, I want to kick myself. I could've checked the fucking bag myself. But no… I _had_ to want him to stay. For at least the second time in as many minutes, I curse these feelings.

Maxwell turns and holds up his sandwich. "One of these. No mayo. No tomato. Hey, don't give me that look. You can trust me- after you nearly killed me last time, I've learned my lesson." He grins cheekily.

I want to wipe that smile off that impish face. I… I _want_ that smile. I want to taste that smile, that engaging smile. How did Maxwell taste? Those lips, those- Shit! What am I _thinking_?! I shake my head. My body is reacting to these thoughts. Stop it now, or I _will_ self-destruct.

Shit, shit, double shit.

Double.

Duo.

_Dammit!!_

I slam my fist on an empty metal space inside Nataku. The pain shooting through my arm brings clarity to my thoughts. Maxwell is giving me an odd look and it's no wonder. I must look absolutely out of my mind. I _am_ absolutely out of my mind.

"There better not be," I manage to choke out before disappearing inside Nataku again. Why can't he go away somewhere? Maybe... get himself blown up? Yes. Why does he have to inadvertently torment me!? The things I want to do to him would make a whore blush. And it is times like this that I find myself nearly too weak to resist.

Footsteps echo away and he is gone. I breathe a sigh of relief, rubbing my aching hand.

"Nataku. Next mission we will go alone…" Maybe _then_ I will be strong enough to self-destruct.


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 2:**

How did I end up in this precarious situation? Because of it I conclude that I am the luckiest _un_luckiest person in existence. In accordance with my wish, in a mission completed half an hour prior, Duo-fucking-Maxwell nearly gets himself blown up. Notice the word _nearly_. Idiot! If you're going to fulfill one of my more sinister wishes, do it _properly_!

And who is thusly stuck tending to his wounds like some doting mother? Me. Oh the inhumanity. Justice is laughing at me. Mocking me. Punishing me. She is telling me what a fool I am… hinting that in a previous life I must have caused a grave injustice to deserve this sadistic torment. When I said 'give me justice', I didn't mean _this_!

Currently, he's nattering on about god-knows-what. I'm effectively ignoring his voice. It's his bare chest that I'm having a problem with- slim and toned with a subtle tan, a few scars… and _why_ do I keep looking!? I try with all my might to focus on the bleeding gash in his left bicep. Seem to be doing a decent job of it too. If I stare hard enough at the half-dry blood, I can effectively block out anything he says or does.

"Hey Wufei, do you hate me or something?"

Except that, apparently. And, as a result of this distraction, my eyes stray to his bare chest again. Curse you! I grunt and tighten the bandage. He winces a bit. With this, I feel better.

"Because… well, I'm _trying_ to make friendly conversation and- ouch! - you're completely ignoring me, man. I don't think you've ever said anything to me unless it was absolutely necessary. You know, despite the Shinigami label, I think I'm a pretty nice guy. I mean… I can be forgetful and Quatre says I'm tactless and I'll be the first to admit I'm generally a really loud person, but you know… besides that," he continues despite the fact that I _am_ ignoring him. Trying to. Chest. _Dammit!!_

"Will you hold still?" I finally mutter. "Your constant fidgeting is just making things worse."

He sighs tremendously. "Well if you would just hurry _up!_"

Maxwell is obviously not a patient man. It's a wonder he is able to keep his feelings for Yuy to himself for so long. I glare at him. "Then stop fidgeting."

"Then stop taking so long!"

I sigh. "I am not going to have this argument with you. It's stupid."

He kicks his foot out childishly. "Well, at least you were talking to me," he mumbles.

"Talk to yourself, idiot."

"No! I'm not crazy, you know," he grumbles.

"Could've fooled me." Slapping surgical tape onto the bandage, I step back. "There. Finished."

He gives me a long look and I nearly start fidgeting myself. "You really _do_ hate me, don't you?"

'Of course not, you idiot' I want to say 'How could I hate you? I love you for goodness' sake! Despite the fact that I really can't stand you! Do you believe it? Because I certainly don't.' But instead I say: "Will you shut up about that? Go eat or something."

He makes a face at me. "Fine. The next time I'm kind enough to make you a sandwich, watch out. Tomatoes galore." But he smirks.

"I won't want it," I say as he leaves. And then I nearly kick myself. He got just what he wanted- me to talk to him without a specific reason. Damn him! Of course, part of me is shouting for joy. We were talking, _actually_ talking. Okay, more like arguing, but that's not the point. We argued about something that had nothing to do with the mission. Just the two of us.

The part of me shouting for joy was now dancing a little jig. I am glad that this part of me is deep inside my mind. How would I explain away dancing a jig? I don't dance. No way, no how. Not even if Maxwell asked me to. Well… I can't actually say that for certain. Damn.

I repack the first-aid kit, stash it somewhere- I don't pay attention where-, and head out to join my fellow pilots. Maxwell is regaling the others with battle stories as if we hadn't been there to see them ourselves. I manage a smirk until I notice he keeps glancing over at Yuy, who has his gaze focused on his laptop. Yuy ignores him and yet Maxwell still seeks his acceptance.

Fool! I want to grab him and shake some sense into him. To tell him 'You moron! He's never going to love you! But for some crazy reason, _I_ do!' But it won't matter. For he only has eyes for Yuy and my feelings will be more along the lines of, 'oh, I'm flattered. Thanks…' If that. Because, in all honesty, I can't see myself doing such an asinine thing in the first place.

He puffs a strand of chestnut hair from his indigo eyes and glances at me with a grin. Oh God, I _want…_

"Nice of you to join us."

"Move over." I push him aside and instantly regret it. My hands tingle with the touch. I clench them into tight fists. My short nails dig into my palms. And I want, I want…

Across the table, Winner is watching me. I arch my brow slightly in his direction. What is he staring…

Oh shit…

A small, knowing smile appears on his face. Damned empathy!

'_No. No. NO!_' I mentally shout in his general direction. But it's clear he doesn't believe it. Hell, _I_ don't. He gives me a sympathetic look and turns back to Maxwell.

I glower at him. I don't need his fucking sympathy. No, no, no… What I need is therapy.

"So guys, what do you think?" Maxwell rocks onto his chair's back legs and folds his hand behind his head. With a touch of malice, I hope he falls. Chew on that, Winner. "It's _my_ opinion that Heero and Wufei are both too anti-social for their own good. You too Trowa, but you're not as bad off as they are so I'm not too worried yet."

We all stare at him, wondering what the hell his point is. At least, that's what I am wondering. Yuy confirms this with a simple phrase: "You're point?"

He rocks forward in his chair suddenly, looking quite enthusiastic. "My _point_ is I think we should go to a club tonight. Have some fun for once!" He smacks his palm on the table and we all jump. "We're sixteen, for God's sake." He looks around for nods of approval.

Yuy and I glare at him as though he's grown a second head. What sort of insane idea is _that_? Part of me, the same part that danced a jig- which I have lost all faith in, by the way-, is thinking that this might be… well, interesting if nothing else. But my sane half rabidly beats down the foolish other half.

Winner agrees enthusiastically. "I think we could use a night off," he says, smiling. Of course he does. He's so fucking happy-go-lucky I almost can't believe he's a lethal Gundam pilot. I wouldn't, if I hadn't seen him in the middle of a battle.

And, of course, despite the fact that I'm trying to keep _away_ from these pilots- one in particular- I find myself nodding acquiescence. Even Yuy nods, though it looks like it's killing him. Who can deny Winner anything? Or Maxwell, for that matter.

"All right!" Maxwell shouts. We all jump again. Did I say he was loud? He's a fucking bullhorn on legs.

"Just remember, no alcohol," Winner reminds us. It's pretty useless. He knows he won't be able to stop us- no one ever listens to that bit of advice. But he reminds us anyway. He's such a saint.

The night is going to be a long one and I have a feeling I'm going to need all the alcohol I can get my hands on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 3:**

Maxwell actually manages to get _all_ of us to go to the club. It surprises me, to be certain. Yuy will be clubbing? And _me_? … Well, no, I suppose it's no surprise that _I_ go. _I_ secretly pine for that chestnut-haired bastard, remember?

Probably for the first, and maybe last, time in our thus-far short lives we look the age we should. We look like normal teenagers out for a night of well… clubbing. (No shit, right?) I feel awkward, naked without concealed weapons and my traditional attire. Not that what I'm wearing is much different than usual- black (instead of white), sleeveless Mandarin shirt, loose black pants, black hair tied back with a black band. Hell, I look like Death-gone-clubbing. Maxwell, self-proclaimed Shinigami who naturally _ought_ to be the one looking like Death, is instead buoyant as ever in flattering black jeans and a form-fitting green t-shirt that highlights the reddish strands threading his hair. But I'm not looking. No, not me. The others, who knows what they're wearing? I can't make myself care. And I know I shouldn't care about what Maxwell wears either. The fact that I apparently _do_ care irritates me.

We pass a group of kids our age and, with disgust, I notice how loud they behave. They laugh with abandon. They talk about such pointless things as if there isn't a war going on right over their vapid heads. They tease each other in good nature with wild gestures and playfulness. As I look forward again, I realize how different we are. Though we pilots dress the part, though we are on our way to enjoy ourselves as normal teenagers might (supposedly), we still act as though we are soldiers on a stealth mission. For all anyone knows, we could be. We talk quietly- only when it's necessary-, glancing around discreetly with our hands hovering over pockets that should hold guns, knives, or explosives but don't as though we expect the enemy to jump out from every dark alley. I realize that, compared to those kids, we are abnormal

Again, I feel naked.

Maxwell, who is alert for once, also notices how strangely we behave compared to the kids we pass. "Come on guys, we're not going to a funeral! Lighten up!" He sidles up next to me, bumps me with a hip, then Yuy, who is somewhat beside me. Jealousy rears its ugly yet all too familiar head and I scowl accordingly. "Especially you two. You guys are complete killjoys."

"You should've known what you were getting into," is my reply. And he should have. Yuy and I are Maxwell's exact opposite: businesslike and serious to a fault. Not exactly a sign of the inner wild partiers, in my opinion.

He makes a face and links arms with Winner. It should be _mine_. No! I shake my head hastily. _Stop_ that, you screwed up hormones!

"Looks like we'll be the only ones having any fun, Quatre."

Yuy and I roll our eyes simultaneously.

"We don't all have the same ideas of fun," Yuy says.

"Oh yes, I forgot. Your idea of fun is blasting Relena Peacecraft's brains out." Maxwell makes a funny squeaking noise and holds up his hands defensively at the death glare Yuy shoots him. "Just kidding." He offers a disarming grin; one that I wish desperately is for me and me alone.

Damned feelings.

He resumes the lead and takes us up to a loud and tacky building, dragging us past a boxy looking bouncer as if he is familiar with the man, though I doubt he is. When would he (or any of us) have time to party? Thusly, I am amused with his confidence.

As I walk by, I notice the bouncer is admiring Maxwell's derriere a little _too_ appreciatively. I glare at him threateningly. "Hands off, bastard," I hiss, slipping into the club with the others. He is far too old for any of us anyway. If he thinks Maxwell is a girl, he is in for a big surprise. I'll step back and laugh at the fool for his mistake. If not, he is still in for a big surprise. Should he try anything, I am not averse to serious ass kicking if I feel the culprit deserves it.

I glance at Maxwell, who is bopping around to nauseatingly repetitive techno sounds as he leads us deeper into the club. Yes, if that bouncer even looks at him again, he'd deserve whatever my jealousy had to dish out.

I'm so fucking pathetic.

Suddenly, Maxwell turns and seizes my and Barton's arms. My pulse jumps at the contact. My thoughts drift to another scene, one with lots of soft, bare skin and my hands tangled deep in silky chestnut hair. My body is thoroughly trying to enjoy the scenario. A damn pervert, that's what I am. With effort, I force the images away and make myself pay attention to his words. "Wufei, Trowa, can you get us some drinks?"

"What? Why can't you?" I demand to know

He is grinning impishly at me. "Hello! Underage drinking ring a bell? You two look and sound older than the rest of us… And I'm sure you brought your –_ahem_- identification since you've likely thought this out more than I have." He doesn't seem at all concerned that he didn't think his plan through.

"Duo, I don't think that's such a good idea," Winner said, ever the responsible one, even though Maxwell is right. I never go anywhere without a set of fake passports and IDs (complete with a fake name and age) on me- one never knows who will catch up with one in this business…

Ignoring him, Maxwell grabs Yuy's arm and tugs him in the opposite direction. "Come on Quatre, let's find a table."

Barton and I look at one another and shrug.

"You think he'll tell Yuy tonight?"

I glance at Barton in surprise. What the…? "Tell him what- oh…" I shrug, not really willing to dwell on it. Secretly, I hope he doesn't. "None of my business," I say evenly. "And I don't care." Lies, lies, lies! With my luck the way it has been, I almost expect to be struck down by lightening. "Though apparently he's planning on getting plastered and he _is _a confessional drunk. I guess only the night will tell."

Barton 'hums' and gives me a long look. His face is expressionless, but I feel as though he's attempting to read me like a damned book.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

He looks at me a moment longer before shaking his head and heading for the bar. A sick, cold feeling of dread drops into my stomach. Oh… fucking… shit. Does he know? Am… oh god, am I as blindingly obvious as Maxwell!?

I nearly shout 'It's not what you think!' but I stop myself before I can make such a monumental error. If he does know… then he does and there is nothing I can do about it. And if he doesn't then I'll just be putting my ass in a situation I don't really want to be in. Instead, I grunt at him. It's a manly grunt that denies all things chestnut and braided.

Skin…

Damn. It. All.

"Four beers please," I grunt in that same manly way. My expression must be as dark and no-nonsense as I feel because the bartender addresses my order no questions asked.

Casually, I hand the beers to Barton, snagging one for myself. "Give these to the others."

He gives me that same flat look. I challenge the look with a glare of my own. _Oh_ no. He's not going to get anything out of _me_. But, without much effort, he gives in- much to my surprise- and walks off.

As for me… I melt into a shadowy corner, feeling comfortable and in control in the darkness as I take a swig of beer. Far away from everyone including that certain pilot that is making my life a living hormonal hell. A safe haven…

"Damn fool," I mutter to myself, taking another long drink. The amber nectar is bitter in my mouth but I swallow and drink again. Did I just think this shadowy corner was a safe haven? I now find myself laughing at the thought. HA! Oh the irony. Justice is truly doing a number on me. For what is in my line of sight but Maxwell himself, dancing with a throng of other young clubbers, who are likely lying about their own ages as well.

As much as I try to fight it, I find myself watching him with an intense, hungry feeling that burns in my stomach and slowly spreads elsewhere. Slim hips move sensuously and a flicking braid just adds to the maddeningly wonderful effect. My body, heedless to what I'm mentally screaming at it (which is along the lines of '_no, you fucking pervert!_'), aches with the want to crush that body against my own. I force myself to look away. This is not fair! And I don't _care_ that life is not fair. Mine was never fair. But… but just this once, can Maxwell just go away and never return!? Is that _really_ so much to ask? Tossing my head back, I down the rest of my beer in a single swallow, discard the bottle, and skirt my way to the bar to get another one. Or two. Or ten. I can do with a drunken stupor right about now.

----

I find myself staring down the neck of the frosty brown bottle. It is empty. I wonder how it got that way. A second and third bottle sitting near me are the same. I sigh and push them aside. Someone beside me protests and I realize too late that I just handed them to an unsuspecting victim. Oh well. I pat said victim on the shoulder and drift away, ignoring obscenities he hurls my way. I feel so… comfortable now. Lazily, for me, I make my way to the table where the other pilots are drinking. Nudging Maxwell aside- whose face is sweaty from all his dancing, framed by loose tendrils of chestnut hair that curl in the heat, looking to _die_ for- I sit down and snap up another beer.

"What did I miss?" I ask thickly. I am not sure my words are totally coherent because my tongue keeps getting in the way but it doesn't matter. I sit back in my chair and relish the chilly amber liquid as it runs down my throat and into my belly.

"Some fine dancing is what you missed!" Maxwell says, louder than usual.

I snort and shove him. "You lush! You're drunk!"

He grins, swaying in my general direction. His eyes squint as though he's trying to bring me into focus. "You are too!"

"I am not!" And then I hiccup. "That means nothing."

"You guys should really stop drinking so much," Winner pleads over his glass of water. Silly, stupid Winner. Grow some balls and have a beer!

I snort and lift my beer. "To alcohol!" The others- excluding Winner, of course- lift theirs in response.

"Hear! Hear!!"

Winner rolls his eyes and says nothing more.

I drop my head back on Maxwell's shoulder and drain the bottle in a few large gulps. Content and comfortable against said shoulder, I let the bottle drop from my hand somewhere on the table and my eyes close. And suddenly I'm falling. My eyes fly open belatedly as my head hits the chair I swear Maxwell was just in. Stars explode before my eyes when my head cracks with the wood. I sit up, rubbing my head, wincing. Over the ringing in my ears, I hear Barton, who is the happy drunk, roaring with laughter- something he'd never do sober. I stick my tongue out and glance around for the body that should've been in the chair my head so courteously made contact with.

Maxwell… or is there two of him now? Does he have a twin? I never knew! Wait, there is only one- if I squint hard enough, the two become one. _Now_ it makes sense.

Maxwell has pulled Yuy aside. He thinks he's being discreet, but he's talking loud enough for us to hear. Did I ever mention that I consider him a bullhorn on legs? Or maybe the beer gives me exceptional hearing. I'll have to further investigate that theory.

"Heero, I need to talk to you about something. It- it's kind of important, will you pay attention to me!? Thanks. Um… well, for a long time now I… you know." He is toying with the end of his braid in nervous habit. I want to reach out and make it mine. Perfect, shimmering hair.

And apparently Yuy _doesn't_ know, for his reply is a flat, blank stare. But I think _I_ know.

Maxwell rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I… eh, I like you… I mean, _really_ like you. I can't explain it and well… I hope it doesn't ruin our… er, friendship, I guess you'd call it but…" Still, Yuy doesn't respond. "Er… just thought you should know."

And, without further ado, I slip from my chair and hit the ground in a broken heap as the meaning of his words penetrates my foggy mind. I've lost. Damn it all! The feelings I never wanted or asked for are now crushed like the ashes on a cigarette butt in an ashtray. This is fucking fantastic. Only Maxwell, drunk or not, has the balls for such a revelation. And it's too late for me. I'm beginning to hate justice. I consider stepping down as her champion.

Barton and Winner stare at me. Well, Winner stares. Barton starts laughing again. Damned happy drunk. Tossing my head back, I laugh as well. But it's a bitter sound, even to my ears, and I know that it is not influenced by alcohol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 4:**

The next thing I know, I'm waking up to a horrendous hangover. How is _that_ for a fine good morning? With a groan, I shield my eyes against the dim light filtering through the blinds over the window across from the bed. It seems too bright. Damn, I didn't think I drank _that_ much…

I lay in bed and my eyes scan the room as I try to regain my bearings amidst a throbbing headache. There is a basic black clutter-free desk crammed in the corner. Well, that would indeed be _my _desk. Sitting on it is a standard-issue laptop computer. Also mine. On that wall are Nataku's schematics. The wall across from it sports a mirror with a web-like crack in the middle, why… oh right, I hit it that _one_ time after that _one_ mission… I think my knuckles still have a couple scars. And there is a night table that matches the desk wedged between the wall and the bed supporting a book entitled _OZ's Ideals For Dummies_ written by Vingt Go. It's covered in vicious graffiti by my own hand. OZ and ideals they preach are complete and utter bullshit. But a good soldier knows his enemies so I have actually read the book. I nearly gagged every other paragraph… But enough of that.

Well, all deductions point out that this is my room. I suppose I should be grateful the others didn't leave me to wake up beside some freakish looking whore named Lola or Franka. I shudder at the thought. But as my brain catches up with my waking self (it's always slow in the morning. I hate mornings. Damned evil things…) I find I'm less and less grateful for waking up as I recall what happened at the club the previous night. That's right. Maxwell _finally _told Yuy how he felt.

Again, I groan, but this time it's not because of the hangover. My life is _beyond_ unfair. And for some reason I continue to think about it. Am I into self-inflicted pain or what? I note that I have no idea what Yuy's response was. It's then I realize that I must have passed out shortly afterward Maxwell pounced. Way to go, moron… Just how many beers did I inhale? Oh, what does it matter? I already know Yuy's answer. After all, as I've said before, one can't refuse Maxwell.

With a lot of effort to maintain balance and patience I stagger out of bed. And, without warning, someone pounds thunderously on my door. The sound roars through my head making it feel as though it's going to split in two. "Whoever the fuck it is, this better be important or I'll fucking kick your ass!" I shout at the door. Oy. Not a good mood, if you couldn't tell. Of course, this shouting doesn't help my head any. Cringing, I sink to the ground, holding a hand to my forehead.

The door slides open. I peer up through my fingers. It is Winner. He smiles, crossing the room and crouching to my level. "I have no pity for this, you know."

My hands drop and I glare at him, but in my condition I know that it's an awfully pathetic attempt. "Is this why you came? Is this your 'I told you so' speech? If it is, I seriously will kick your ass. I was perfectly fine until you knocked thank-you-very-much." Okay, so I wasn't. But who's really keeping track?

His look turns sympathetic. "I… actually came to see if you were all right."

"What are you blathering about? I have a hangover so of _course _I'm not all right. And could you not be so loud? I have a splitting headache."

He frowns. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about what happened last night. Between Duo and Heero…"

I give him my best withering look. I doubt it is very convincing, because Winner still sits before me. He should be backing away in sheer terror. Damned alcohol. "Uh… and that's any of my business?" Though I know I'm caught. In his own sympathetic way, Winner is trying to crucify me on my own fucking feelings. Or, at least, that's what I tell myself. It makes it easier to get mad.

"It's just that you had feelings for Duo and I thought-"

"Ha!" I shout. "Ow…" I grip my throbbing head. Okay, not one of my better ideas… I opt for a more quiet denial. "Feelings? For that psychopath? _Me_? Winner… I think you have it all wrong." I reach over and pat his shoulder, offering a smirk. Oh, I'm dying inside believe me. But it's my fault anyway. I could've acted. I didn't. And I still consider these emotions asinine. So I put on a play for Winner, everyone's damned surrogate mother. (And I'm sure once my hangover has dissipated, I'll feel at least a shred of remorse for thinking so rudely of him… Maybe.)

But despite my efforts, he looks unconvinced. Damn him. "You know… Heero-"

I can't stand it anymore. I don't want to hear how Yuy, everyone's fucking Perfect Soldier, took Maxwell from me. As if I had some sort of claim on him. I nearly snort at that thought. I never did. Damned justice. "Listen. Enough gossiping. We're not women for fuck's sake. Now, mind leaving me alone so I can shower?"

He opens his mouth as if to protest, but immediately shuts it. Wise move. His eyes narrow slightly and he heaves a great sigh. He gets up and leaves, though I think he mutters something about "just concerned… good friend…"

I sit back against the edge of my bed and let my head drop against the thin mattress. "Blah, blah, blah. I _know_…" I sit there for about an hour, brooding like the sulky teenager I should be. Not just trying to get over my hangover. No, not me. And dammit, after all this sitting on the thinly carpeted floor my ass hurts!

With resolve, a head that hurts a little less, and a derriere that hurts a little more, I get up and head to the bathroom. And as I shower, I let the water take my thoughts down the drain with it.

----

I finally join the 'real' world after another hour, feeling much better. Feelings gone, head (basically) refreshed, and maybe there's a song in my heart. Oh, who am I kidding? The feelings are still there. And the day I have a song in my heart is the day Hell freezes. Regardless, my mood has improved. I even manage a civil nod in Winner's direction. He, however, still seems a bit miffed. '_Oh grow up, you weakling!_' I think vehemently. So I lost to Yuy? Big fucking deal. I made no move, so there's nothing I can do about it.

I plop down before Barton, who is staring at a chessboard, and move a pawn. This starts a game I know he's been waiting to play. And I rather get into it. Barton's the only one who can match me in chess. Winner is a chess master and therefore impossible to beat, Maxwell is impatient and gets distracted far too easily (and then there's the fact that I, too, would bee too distracted… bastard), and challenging Yuy is like a death wish- he's a very sore loser. Speaking of which…

I glance around and spot Yuy clacking away on his damned laptop. I frown. What the hell is he doing? Maxwell just confessed his love the night before. They should be holed up together doing things that make me jealous. Again, speaking of which… Maxwell is nowhere to be seen. Oh shit, did they already…? With a lot of malice, I wish to tear Yuy's head from his body. Oh yes, glorious spillage of his blood… I shake my head. Did I ever mention I need counseling? Sayonara jealousy. Say hi to justice for me.

I turn back to the chessboard and notice half my pieces are now gone. "What the hell, Barton!?"

"What?"

"My pieces! What did you do? You cheated!"

He gives me a flat stare. "It's called strategy. I moved my pieces. You weren't moving yours, so I took the liberty to move them myself."

"Some liberty! I don't know where you learned chess, but where I come from, that's called cheating."

He arches a brow. "Maybe next time you'll keep your eye on the board."

"Only the weak cheat!" Yeah, it's a sad argument, but it's the only one I can come up with. And regardless, I am… actually slightly amused. Only slightly so. His reasoning needs considerable work.

"Oh get over it. Anyway, you can still win."

Still win my ass! Well, it's not going to stop me from trying to give Barton a run for his money. I grit my teeth and move another piece. "Remind me never to play chess with you again." Still, I find I'm enjoying myself, enjoying the distraction. Like war, chess is a series of battles. It calls for strategy and knowledge of your enemy's weakness- though I don't really consider Barton my enemy… However, he _did _have a grand old time laughing his ass off at me the previous night. If he loses, I may forgive him…

With a _whoosh_, the door to the room slides open and who walks in but Maxwell himself. I stare intently at the chessboard. Can't let myself get distracted again… can't let Barton take advantage of that distraction _again_… can't…

Discreetly, I find my gaze flitting over to him as he sits and begins an animated conversation with Winner. And I find this very odd. Shouldn't it be Yuy he talks to? He just scored himself the bastard of his dreams, right? If anything, he looks a bit shy of Yuy. Maxwell. Shy. Again, when hell freezes over.

Reaching over, I slap Barton's hand, which is sneakily drifting towards my knight. "I saw that. Don't even think about it." I move. Again, as if Maxwell is a damned magnet and my eyes are made of iron, my gaze is drawn to him.

There is something unusual about the way Maxwell is behaving. To the untrained eye, he is the same as always: chipper, yappy, and hyperactive, like a neurotic Chihuahua. But my eye is not untrained. Not with the way I've been watching him for days on end, obsessively as if I was some psychotic stalker, wanting and craving…

I mentally berate myself before taking my turn. But my focus is lost as I find myself looking at him again.

His posture has changed. It's not loose and casual, prone to flapping around like some hothouse lunatic. It's not full of energy or his passion for life. He looks stiff and his arms are crossed over his chest. His shoulders hunch forward a slight degree as though he's guarding himself. I know this posture well because it's one I adopt when I'm uncomfortable. The only other difference is in his exotic eyes, the indigo windows to his soul. Well, not really. That's just pretty poetry. Like the rest of us pilots, he keeps his soul guarded well. Only he knows where the key is and he's not telling anyone. But his eyes, they don't shine like they normally do. I can't explain what I see in them because it's not something I'm familiar with.

But yeah. Heh. I could use a good long date with some therapy.

I take another turn and then end up glancing at Yuy, who is totally absorbed in his laptop. That clack-clack-clacking never stopped. Didn't he _notice_ Maxwell entered? I want to grab his shoulders and give him a good, hard shake- enough to rattle that soldier brain of his- and say "Pay attention to him! He _obviously_ needs solace, you bastard!"

Again, I find myself slapping Barton's hands away from my chess pieces. "Listen you cheater, try that again and you'll be playing chess out your ass!"

"Then pay attention to the game."

"I am." I move again. "Checkmate." I smirk as he looks at the board mildly surprised. Hell, I am a bit too. "And that, Barton, is how you play a damn good game of chess."

----

It's well after midnight and I can't sleep. For the past three hours I have stared up through the dark in the general direction of my ceiling. After the first two hours, I've thought about every good, clean thought I could possibly think. I'm pretty surprised. I thought I wouldn't be able to last ten minutes. But the final hour, I'd been trying (and for the most part, failing) to keep my mind from producing other not-so-clean thoughts. With a growl of frustration, I give up. Clambering out of bed, I grope around in the darkness for a loose t-shirt, which I had tossed on the desk chair. Hastily, I throw it on over my sweats and quietly leave my room, padding down empty hallways towards the hangar. Perhaps talking to Nataku will knock me out.

A dim, motion activated light flickers pathetically when I enter the hangar. It's cold, so very cold. My bare feet curl against the cold metal floor. I hug my arms to my chest in a feeble attempt to keep warm as I head down the platform towards Nataku. More motion activated lights flicker on as I pass. Ahead, my dear Gundam looks eerie, with sharp planes of shadow and light. I smile. She has instilled fear in the hearts of millions and, seeing her like this, I feel proud.

"I am here, Nataku." My voice echoes throughout the hangar. Feeling a hell of a lot better than I have in several days, I climb inside and sit back in the pilot's chair. Without thinking about it, my hands skim over the controls with practiced efficiency and Nataku comes to life. She is ready for battle. I smile. Not tonight, dear friend. "Good evening Nataku. I hope you've slept better than I have."

I recline in my chair and talk to Nataku for about an hour, telling her what happened with the whole Maxwell-Yuy scenario, my lack of faith in justice, the things I can't keep myself from thinking, and how Barton cheated so horribly in chess, yet I kicked his ass anyway. And she listens. She offers no advice, but that's fine with me. I just need to talk, uninterrupted. And with Nataku, I get no backtalk, unwanted advice, or sympathy. I just get to be me.

The lights had long since dimmed so when they flicker back on, I am startled into silence. Damn, it's been a while since I've been caught off guard. I was really quite absorbed in my monologue, I guess. Being as quiet as I can, I peer out of Nataku's chest. And to my complete surprise, Maxwell is shuffling his way towards Deathscythe. I'm baffled. What the hell is he doing here? I fold my arms over my knees and lean on them, watching. He crosses the floor and looks up at Death before sitting on the Gundam's massive foot. '_Shouldn't he be with Yuy?_' I wonder. Not that I mind. I mentally curse myself but that's how it goes…

Maxwell looks heavenward and I see his shoulders rise and fall with what is most likely a great sigh before resting his head on Death's leg. As I watch him, I realize something. He is not in post… _whatever_ bliss. He doesn't even look overworked from an over-aggressive lover- which I imagine Yuy probably is. The quiet ones usually are. (And why the hell am I even _thinking _this!?) But no. In fact, he looks… almost sad.

I continue to watch, confused. And believe me, confusing me is a mean feat in and of itself. Then I notice something else. His shoulders are shaking, ever slightly. My brow furrows slightly in complete and utter shock as realization hits me like a load. Duo Maxwell, Mr. Shinigami-life-of-the-party-manic-one-man-circus-always-happy-yappy-Chihuahua-in-training… is… is…

Crying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 5:**

Maxwell. Is. Crying. Crying is the thing Maxwell is doing right now. Maxwell, crying? Yes he is.

Nope. No matter how I say it to myself it doesn't sound real. And yet here it is right before my unbelieving eyes. He looks lost and hopeless. Small and so very alone. Dare I say vulnerable? No! He's Shinigami! How can he be vulnerable? And for the life of me I can't understand why he weeps. Yuy. He has Yuy for Christ's sake! What is he so weepy about? It's what he wanted, isn't it?

I frown suddenly. Unless Yuy is hurting him. To have the object of one's infatuation-borderline-obsession cause one pain… I feel unexpected torrents of rage coursing through my veins. Forget cursing my feelings, no one is allowed to treat another so callously… It's what I tell myself, but I'm no angel either. Still, if Yuy is treating him poorly… oh, there will be hell to pay.

Shit. My feelings are taking up a damned life of their own.

Quietly, I exit Nataku. I intend to leave Maxwell here to reflect in the solitude he probably assumes he is in. Oh, but justice has different plans. Again. Have I said how much I hate her lately?

The motion lights near Nataku- that naturally hadn't been activated, since Maxwell didn't approach her- flicker on, bright and glaring. Shit. I feel like the dramatic antihero character in a cheesy, over-funded action film showing up at the clichéd climax to change the tides with corny one-liners and a sleazy glare. Maxwell looks up with a startled expression.

"Wufei…?" he says, followed by a brief swear that sounds distinctly like 'oh shit.' Hastily he turns from me. Probably to dry his tears. After all, we're men and soldiers at that. Men don't cry. And soldiers sure as hell don't.

Feeling an unnatural shred of kindness, I decide to pretend I saw nothing. Heh. We'll see how long _that_ lasts.

"It's awfully late for you to be here," I point out, shuffling casually towards him across the platform. Oh look. I'm even talking to him without reason. Damn. I've gone soft in the past few days. But as I hear his pathetically stuffy-nosed reply, I tell myself that it can't hurt just this once…

"I could say the same for you," he points out. It sounds more like "I cood say da sabe for you." He hitches with a dry sob, the way one does when tears stop as abruptly as they had started.

"No you can't. I was talking to Nataku." I glance back at my beloved Gundam, shifting my weight from one foot to the other (I have exceptional balance, if I do say so myself) as I attempt to warm my bare feet by the friction of rubbing them on my worn sweats. It is so. Fucking. _Cold!_

He accepts that answer because it's not uncommon knowledge I talk to her often enough to call it a borderline obsession. But he snorts anyway. Or maybe he's just trying to breathe.

I stare at him for a long time. He too must have been unable to sleep. He wears a faded black t-shirt and black-and-blue flannel lounge pants with black slippers. '_Ah… he is smart_' I think as my gaze drops for a millisecond to my frozen feet, which look incredibly white and bony chilled as they are.

Okay. Millisecond over.

Dark eyelashes, which are surprisingly long, frame his eyes in wet clumps that glitter in the light. Those same eyes are slightly puffy and bloodshot, making the irises practically glow indigo. His cheeks are stained with tear-tracks and rubbed red where he tried to remove any sign of there ever being any. Even devastated, he's… beautiful. My insides churn at the thought (I mean, how corny do I have to be before it all ends!?), but there is no other word to describe him. "Er… you okay, Maxwell?" I ask awkwardly. It is not in my nature to be so expressively concerned.

"What? Oh… yeah. I'm fine." He gives me a grin. It's a feeble cover-up. There is foreign pain in my chest at the sight and I wonder how often that smile isn't real. "Just out here thinking."

I give him a shrewd look.

"What?"

Remember how I thought I'd pretend I didn't see him crying? "Maxwell… I saw you so you may as well stop pretending." So much for that wasted effort.

He looks up at me, quite defiant. "I wasn't!"

"Oh shove it already. You were too." I lean against Deathscythe's leg, folding my arms over my chest. I give him a sidelong glance. "So why did you come out here? Shouldn't… you be with Yuy?" I force myself to say it casually. I claim that men don't gossip. Well, who am I kidding? We do. But I don't. Usually. I like to get the facts straight from the source… even if it's going to kill me to hear words put to the truth that I'm certain I know.

Maxwell gives a very un-Maxwell snort of laughter. There is no shred of glee in the sound. It makes me cringe. He digs a slippered toe into the metal flooring as if that is going to affect anything. "Why would I go to him?" There is something painful about the way he says it.

I blink. "Uh… why not?"

He gives me a long look. "Where were _you_ last night? … Oh wait, I think you had passed out by then." His brow furrows and he sighs, reclining his head back on Death's leg. "Well, it may be hard to believe," he begins in a pathetic imitation of a joke that I don't laugh at, "but I was… shot down." He mimics the motion of shooting something out of the sky. His eyes follow the dying path of his imaginary victim and he smiles flatly. "And now you know." He sniffled and wiped the back of his hand across his nose. "Said he didn't think that, in the grand scheme of things, this was appropriate. Said that despite my claims he's human, he didn't think he could return the feelings, if he had any at all. He said …" He takes a deep breath and his shoulders quake. "He said I shouldn't waste my time." I think his tears are coming again because he scrubs his eyes viciously.

The strange pain in my chest grows.

He purses his lips and glances upward and I suppose he's attempting to reclaim his dignity by keeping those damned tears at bay. "It's not like I _wanted_ to fall for him, you know."

I know how _that_ feels. Oh, how I know. And I am stunned. Yuy denied Maxwell? How is that _possible_? Justice must be kicking his ass too. Maxwell's, that is.

Again with the derisive laugh. "And _I_ had to go make an ass out of myself. Way to go, right?" He shakes his head and turns from me. "If I hadn't opened my big mouth, I wouldn't be in this predicament."

At least he had the balls to take some action. "You… couldn't have known," I struggle to say sympathetically. I'm not sympathetic by nature and Maxwell knows it.

He snorts. "It's _Heero_." True. _Any_ idiot would know the results if Yuy is involved, I suppose. "Look, Wufei. You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. Just feeling a little stupid right now." After a pause, he sighs. "Listen, man, can you just go? I want to be alone."

Frowning, I nod. I push off from Deathscythe's leg and turn away. But small part of me wants to comfort him (again with those damned emotions…), to make him feel… happy again. And the selfish part of me, a part of me that I _thought_ didn't exist anymore, wants to take advantage of this new development, to leech off his sadness, to worm my way into him like a fucking parasite. My rational side is losing. Losing? Ha! Who am I kidding? It's shut down completely the moment I started talking to him. I was screwed from the start.

I turn back. Selfishness reigns above all else and oh god, I _want_. My hands are propped against Death's leg on either side of Maxwell. And I capture him. His lips are slightly salty and damp from his previously shed tears. The pain in my chest wrenches. How long had he cried? I want to take away his pain, his heartache. He is mine and I want to devour him. I am a parasite, after all.

He makes a startled noise. Hell, I would too if I was in his position. "Wufei?"

I pull back slightly and lick my lips. My breathing is already ragged and so is his. I try to pull completely away from him, I really do. Because I hate him, right? But I can't do it. Because I _can't_ hate him. He _had_ to be a magnet. I _had_ to be the iron. My control is spiraling to a quick and violent demise. Dammit. I don't just want… I _need_. "Shh," I breathe. I capture that soft, supple mouth a second time. And this time…

He let's me.

His lips part and I get the first taste of the one who is Duo Maxwell. His mouth is warm and spicy where I expected cool and sweet, like ice cream or something. It's a drug. It rushes through my veins and worms itself into my mind. Promising to never let go. And I know I've lost.

He is responding to my touch, my assault. To me. His hands grip my shirt. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip. The result thrills me. But a chill settles in my aching chest as well. For I know his response isn't caused by the same intense longing that I feel. His is a different need. The need to be comforted. The need to forget about being rejected. He might deny it. But I know this. And it's agony knowing this. But I can't stop. Won't stop. I'm physically incapable of it. I am on fire, burning up, scorched and angry. Dying. But living.

I climb onto Death's foot over Maxwell, knees on either side of him, mouths still entangled. My hands leave the Gundam's cold, uninviting metal shell and push into volumes of warm chestnut hair. His hair is soft, inconceivably soft, and somewhere, distantly, in the very back of my mind I wonder what sort of shampoo he uses. The strands are so very fine and run like silk between my fingers, or water, cool and pure, fine enough to catch on my callused fingertips. I hate poetry. It's a daydreamer's world, a loathsome waste of time; mine especially. Yet all these thoughts are so fucking poetic. I fear those delicate strands might break on my work-rough fingertips, but the sensation is too intense. My fingers bury deeper into his hair, curling possessively around the coppery strands. Oh god, I am the 'hair guy' that I so detest. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, a noise I want to claim again. But…

"No!" Maxwell's head jerks back and cracks against Death's leg with a dead '_gonk_'. "Ow!"

I pull back, trying to catch my breath, giving him a long look as he rubs his head, wincing. "No what?"

"You… you can't do this."

I frown. I know he is obsessed about his hair but this is a bit much… "Why not?" I ask skeptically.

"I don't need to be coddled or … or whatever just because I got rejected, Wufei. This kind of thing happens all the time!"

Okay, so it's not about the hair. "You… think this is out of sympathy?"

He blinks. "Well… yeah. Considering it's… you know, really out of the blue." _And not like you at all_, his expression just about adds.

I growl and slam my hands on either side of him again. He jumps. My hands sting and the bones from my wrists to my shoulders ache from the force, but I am so mad I can ignore it. "Give me a break!" I snap. "You think I would do _that_ out of sympathy!? _Me!?_ I'm not a fucking girl for Christ's sake! This isn't because I feel _bad_ for you."

He looks confused- which is a rare sight because he really _is_ quite intelligent. And well… I suppose he has every right to be confused. But come _on_.

His expression is wary. "Er… well you know, last time I checked, you hated me," he points out.

"Hate…" I frown and close my eyes, beginning again. "There is this… _thing- _a… a saying, I guess. The opposite of love is indifference, not hate." I sigh and open my eyes, though I don't really look at him. "You see… love and hate are the very same passionate emotion." Listen to me- how philosophical. My gaze crosses his. "Interpretation of that passionate emotion is what makes it hate. Or love."

Maxwell looks dumbfounded. And I am too. Oh… shit. I- I just told him. '_Fool!_' I mentally scream at myself. It is a rare moment when this happens, but I wish I could go back and erase what I just said. That foolish confession of… what was it? _Love!?_ Desire, lust, I know. I understand. Love I can _think _about. But to _say _it? Saying it makes it all too real! Again, I think I know how he feels. I get off of him and sit on Death's foot as the mantra 'shit, shit, holy shit' runs on a mental loop through my head.

"But… how?"

I scowl but I don't look at him. "I don't know _how_! Does anyone ever know _how_? Maybe I am receiving divine punishment from a previous life, I don't know! I don't have the answer! Just like you and your thing with Yuy, it just fucking happened! I wouldn't have _chosen_ to torment myself with the knowledge that I want you but can't fucking have you because you fancy _him_!"

He hums and an uncomfortable silence passes between us. My head starts its 'holy shit' chant again. I wish desperately that this is a dream. But it's not. It's my very real, very unfair life. I slam my fist on Death's foot in my frustration and, wincing slightly, shake the pain from my hand.

Agitated with myself, with the whole fucking _world_, I stand. "Listen, Maxwell. Just forget what I said. I'm tired and I don't know what I'm saying." I walk off.

A hand grabs my arm. I know whose, because he's the only one in the hangar with me. And I'm ready to slug his fucking brains out. Yes… I'm a bit irritated. But before my brain can fully register what is happening, I am jerked around and that wonderful mouth is crushed against mine. I am soaring and seething simultaneously. And I nearly cave. Damn, I _am_ weak. This time, it is my turn to pull back. With effort. Too much effort for my peace of mind.

"Listen you-" I growl.

He interrupts me. "It's not sympathy either, if that's what you're thinking," he says sternly. That is _exactly _what I'm thinking. "Shinigami, remember?" His hand makes a flighty path through the air ending with a violent slitting motion across his throat. "Render death, not compassion. Besides, I'm not stupid. The first person that offers you sympathy is going to get his head mounted on your wall. I know how you operate."

And it's my turn to look wary. "Then why?" Okay, maybe this _is_ a dream.

"I… well." He grunts and purses his lips, casting his eyes askance. I think I've just learned something new about him. It seems that, despite the fact that he's a yappy loudmouth, he has as much trouble with speaking his mind about these things as I do. Unless he's drunk. He screws up his face and I get the impression he's trying to screw up courage as well. Before he speaks, his face becomes guarded. "I… want you to make me forget him," he says in a lofty, detached way, as if he could really care less if I say no. But I'm no fool.

"I can't be Yuy," I say, watching to gauge his reaction.

"Yeah I know. Again, man, I'm not stupid."

"I could bash your head in and give you amnesia. Is that how you're asking to forget him?" Which, I know, sounds _so_ endearing…

He rolls his eyes. "Of course not! You know what I mean!"

My eyes narrow. He looks prepared to accept defeat. It's sad. But it's also a very wise move. Using battle tactics in this very personal situation. A soldier can't go into battle if he doesn't expect that this could be the battle in which he would die. It prepares him for the worst and keeps him in mind of the fight instead of worrying about his own safety. And this is a battle for the both of us.

And I _know_ he has no want of me. He just wants to forget. And because I show interest, I'm the perfect candidate. But I always say… one can't refuse Maxwell.

I snort. "Idiot… You're weak." But is it him? Or me?

And his mouth is mine again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 6:**

His room is too _cold_, he says. Just for a little while, he says. He'll be gone before everyone wakes up. He _says_. Come on, Wufei!

Then tell me why the hell I'm waking up to a stiff neck, sitting on my bed with Maxwell leaning on my shoulder fast asleep! He's heavy enough that the shoulder he leans on has a sharp prickling sensation all the way to my fingertips. I run my free hand over my weary face with a groan and I realize that I must have drooled during the night, for there is the telltale crust in the corner of my mouth.

"Arrrrgh!" is about as coherent a sound I can make at the moment as I furiously scrub it away. How uncouth is this!?

Despite my noise, Maxwell is still asleep. I glance down at him. He looks younger than ever when he sleeps, when his brow isn't furrowed, when the stress of the day isn't crinkled in the corners of his eyes. When that obnoxious 'I know something you don't know' smirk isn't on his face. His chest rises and falls with a deep and steady cadence and I'm grateful he doesn't snore. It would kill the picture he made.

I'm still a bit surprised I let him in my room in the first place. But after all the events in the hangar, I was still cold. Maxwell was quite warm. And, though I'd never admit it aloud even under the threat of torture, I didn't want to be alone.

Well, it looks like I got my wish. I shift, trying to wake my arm up. But Maxwell won't be moved. Stubborn sleeper…

Across the room on my laptop, the menu screen for a movie disc is flickering, continually playing the same fifteen seconds of the same intimidating song. I don't even remember the movie starting the previous night, much less watching it. It's a wonder I slept through it. I am typically an insanely light sleeper. Which also makes it a good thing he doesn't snore.

Again, I glance at Maxwell. How the hell can he be comfortable like that, propped against the wall, half leaning on me? Stupid…

With a grunt, I slide off the bed, working some feeling into my tingling arm. His head, now free of its support, bounces off the bed, startling him awake with a "What the _hell!?_"

"Morning," I grunt, padding over to the laptop to turn it off.

"Where am I?" he asks with the stupidity borne from grogginess.

"My room."

"Mm…"

That's it? From the great yappy Maxwell? I glance over my shoulder and snort. He's fallen asleep again.

"Idiot," I mutter, going over and thunking him on the head. "Wake up. Wake up. You can't sleep in here all day."

He peers at me with one bleary eye. "Knock it off, I'm tired!" he whines, burrowing his face deeper into _my_ blankets. Ah, so he's not a morning person either. I am a bit surprised that we have something besides our profession in common.

"Sleep in your own room then!"

"It's too cold in there."

I give him a stern look. "I think you're making that up."

"I'm not! When have you ever been in there?"

"Never. Now go. I need to take a shower."

He arches a brow. "Uh… how am I preventing you from showering?" An impish smirk graces his lips. "It's not like I can see through walls." He gestures to the bathroom. "Though if you need help…" And the grin he offers is positively sinful.

"Maxwell!" I yelp uncharacteristically. Especially considering that I don't mind the idea of his 'help'. And he supposedly grew up in a _church_?!

"What? Jeez, I'm just kidding, Wufei. And call me Duo, would you?"

"Maxwell."

"Duo!"

"Maxwell."

"My name is Duo!"

"And this argument is asinine."

"All arguments are. That's the whole point." He sighs. "Oh whatever, you stubborn old man."

I bristle at the comment but manage not to reply. I maybe stubborn but I'm only a month older than he is. I don't think that qualifies me as an old man!

I open a cabinet beneath Nataku's schematics and pull out a towel and a fresh change of clothes. I am reaching for my belt when I feel eyes upon me. I glance over my shoulder suspiciously. With brow furrowed, clearly deep in thought, Maxwell is staring… but it's as if he is staring through me rather than _at_ me. I frown. I wonder if he is thinking of Yuy. Clearly, I'm not doing my job to make him forget. It is truly a daunting task, this forgetting business, and I begin to wonder if it will even be possible. Maxwell is and has been for a long time head-over-heels obsessed with Yuy. Trying to make him forget _that_ would be like trying to stuff Nataku into a miniskirt.

I _want_ to make him forget Yuy. There's no use pining after a lost cause. Hmph. Like I should talk. But I don't know what to do. I don't know _how_ to make him forget. I've never been in this insanely precarious position before.

So I take the instinctual fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants way out- something I've never done before and hope to the gods above that I never do again.

I drop my things, walk over to him, and push him onto his back, straddling his hips and trying not to think about things I could do to him in this prone position… And I simply ask him. Or demand, really. "What do you want me to do?"

Maxwell looks surprised, eyeing me up and down. Already my brain is insinuating… I'm so fucking sick! "Wow… Wufei… You're an awfully fast mover. I never would've guessed-" As is he, apparently.

"Oh shut up that's not what I meant!" Though it very well could be what I mean if this keeps up. My hormones are telling me they rather like this position.

"Then… what do you mean?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" I grunt, subconsciously bashing the hormones to the back of my mind for a more convenient time.

"Uh… yeah… seeing's how I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

I exhale loudly. Dammit, I really hate admitting this… "Last night… last night you asked me to… you know, help you forget Yuy." It comes out awkward but, hell, how would I word it otherwise? He nods to assure me that he recalls this scene. As if he could forget. I acted very strangely the previous night. "Well, I have…" I pause. I really don't want to admit this… And then I sigh. Well, I'm in this deep. I might as well jump in all the way. I certainly can't sound more foolish than I already do. "I have no fucking clue how to do that- aside from, as I said earlier, giving you amnesia."

He regards me seriously for a moment- something that is truly abnormal. Maxwell. Serious. Does hell have an ice skating rink now?

Before I even know what's happening (and this is the second time for that- a Chang record), I feel myself being pulled down with great force and our mouths crash together with that same force, causing our teeth to knock. We both wince but Maxwell commandeers the situation almost immediately and any pain is forgotten. Holy shit he's aggressive…

And then…

"How the hell did I end up on my back?" Air has become a much-needed commodity. And I find that I am looking _up_ at Maxwell. So I feel that this is an important question that needs to be asked.

Maxwell looks pleased, like the cat that cornered the mouse and is ready to pounce. I almost expect him to start purring- though naturally, it would freak me out if he did. "You've succumbed to the Maxwell charm."

"I've succumbed to _nothing!_"

He's looking ex_tremely_ pleased now. "Oh, don't deny it."

"That's absurd," I grumble. He's right of course. Only I'd succumbed to the so-called 'Maxwell charm' long before he chose to use it against me. That's why, despite the fact that he has the upper hand in this situation, he's still alive.

He laughs.

My body thrills. Oh god, can he laugh again?

No! Dammit!

So he laughs. But not for long. I am not one to be bested by anyone (or anything, considering my hormones are trying to see to that) and sit quietly. With a grunt, I push and he is on his back again.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I thought I did. Just not with words."

"Your subtlety astounds me." Sarcasm is thick in my tone.

"I know, isn't it great?" Maxwell grins. "Well, I'll put it in words so even _you_ might understand. You're just going to have to seduce me."

I stare at him. "S-seduce you?" The word is as foreign to me as a normal childhood.

"Well yes. You've already admitted you want this dashing physique. That's half the battle right there." He looked absolutely gleeful. God I want to punch him. Or devour him. And dammit, it's not fair! I don't _want_ him to be the one pulling my strings! I pull my own! Or justice does… as she has been lately.

"Don't make me change my mind. I've been trying, you know."

He frowns a bit and I realize that what I just said isn't the kindest thing I could say. Granted, kindness is another thing that isn't really my forte. Well, if he wants me to help him out, he's going to have to accept me bad personality and all.

And yet… I'm apologizing, however haltingly. However stupid I sound. My mouth is moving and words unfamiliar to me are spilling out, as fatal as a radiation leak. Maxwell holds up a hand and shakes his head.

"Er… it's okay man. Nothing to be sorry about. But you could… let me up. I suppose I could use a shower of my own- this hair isn't going to wash itself."

"Right," I mutter, climbing off of him, feeling ready to kill myself. I really hate my big fucking mouth right about now…

Maxwell gets to his feet, pats his hair, and heads for the door, offering me a smile. "Well, later." And out the door he disappears.

And on that note, my entire body is brought to a grinding halt. Realization hits me like a two-ton load of Gundanium alloy.

I. Just. Fucking. Blew it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 7:**

By the time I manage to make it through a shower and out of my room, the others are awake and life is buzzing within our multi-room pseudo flat. Maxwell is having a conversation about god-knows-what with Barton. He still avoids Yuy. I think he's avoiding me now too.

Damn.

Dammit.

_Dammit!!_

I stalk into the room, frustrated, stifled… I don't know what, but it's uncomfortable. I feel Barton cast a fleeting glance in my general direction, followed by a heavy gaze from Winner. I can almost _hear_ him say 'What did I tell you?' To which I would say 'You told me nothing! You simply guessed right!'

"Anything new on the missions front?" I ask Yuy, about the only safe person in this room to speak to. And even then, he's none too safe.

After a moment, he holds up an envelope, one hand still clacking away on his laptop's keyboard. His eyes never leave the greenish screen. Vaguely, I wonder how he does it as I take the letter. The guy must be the eighth fucking Wonder of the World, I guess.

With a frown, I pry a piece of paper from the envelope. Our so-called 'doctors'-the insane geniuses responsible for Nataku and the other Gundams- had several strange ways of contacting us for new missions. Those ways include videodiscs, digital feed, warped phone calls, ticking _bombs…_ but standard mail is quite unusual. It's so _normal_. And astoundingly risky. No matter… There is a new mission for me. Justice is finally on my side. After so many weeks of suffering, climaxing into the events of last night and this morning, she is offering a chance for me to get killed. Ah, blessed mercy.

My eyes scan the paper again. I smile. Tomorrow there will be hell to pay for I am offered target practice with a pair of heavily guarded OZ transport carriers crossing the ocean a few hundred miles from here en route to a base in Argentina at 0900 hours. I feel my smile grow wicked. Special delivery? Not if I have anything to say about it.

"Thanks," I mutter, though I'm not sure if I'm thanking Yuy or the good doctors for this opportunity. Either way, Yuy doesn't respond. I'm not even sure he heard me.

I will die on this mission if it's the last thing I do! Which, if I succeed, it _will_ be. Preferably, at my own hand or the one of a particularly strong opponent. Knowing OZ, I expect the former.

I tuck the letter in my pocket and breeze past Maxwell on my way out of the room. Our gazes brush briefly and then I am gone. I am filled with self-loathing. I've lost. There's no way to fix it. It's horrible, this unfamiliar feeling.

No.

No. I have to get my head in the game.

The Plan: Destroy the carriers. The Perks: I die in the process. The Consequences: Will there be sorrow if I do? Doubtful. Tough shit if there is.

Mission accepted.

Justice, _please_ be on my side again.

----

I leave well before sunrise. The sky above is black and clear and the moon is full, a stark contrast against the dark sky. I am surprised I am up this early. I loathe mornings almost as much as the weak who pretend they can fight. The others are still fast asleep. I think I can even hear Winner's snores as I pass his room, and he's the fucking morning person of the lot of us. Good. It's better this way. I don't have to see anyone before I leave. A very specific 'anyone'.

The hangar is as chilly as ever but I'm dressed wisely for the temperature. My thoughts must remain focused.

I feel comfortable inside Nataku, sitting in a severely upright chair molded for me and me alone. We soar above what clouds there are and I can feel my body elevating into 'battle mode'. My body is alert but at ease. My eyes, ears, and mind absorb everything and catalog it accordingly. I am ready to pull it up at a moments notice. Within minutes I have become the proverbial killing machine.

I glance at the vid screen that offers a clear, wide screen view of what's behind me. Far east, the sun is rising, shooting the night-black sky with violent red and orange arrows and, closer to the horizon, shocking gold explosions. Ahead of me, on the western horizon, stars glitter feebly as the moon valiantly tries to hold her claim of the sky. She's losing fast in the face of the sun's brutal radiance. Daybreak has become a bitter war. Heh. The perfect setting for my own goals of the day.

I breathe in Nataku's scent of warming electronics, steel, and axle grease and I feel myself smile. Distantly, she hums. "You're ready for battle too, aren't you?" I murmur, running my thumbs along the controls. If I let my imagination run I can imagine her enthusiastic reply. She is as hungry to dish out our brand of justice as I am. Well, she won't be hungry for long.

I glance at my watch. In a few hours I will be in position. There I will wait. I'm certain OZ is expecting me. How can they not? With a shipment like this, they're asking for trouble. And who am I to let them down? I will rend their sorry asses down to the atomic level.

"I hope you're ready, Nataku. We have some OZ ass to kick."

----

As assumed, I am in position by 0700 hours. It may seem early to some, but I am furious with myself. One must _always_ be prepared for the enemy. And by my standards, I arrived far too late. With only two measly hours before the transports will pass, they had plenty of time to set up a trap. Maybe I want to die, but not _this_ way. I want to see my attackers face on. Strikes to the back are low and cowardly. And I do _not_ want to die at the hands of a coward. So I keep my eyes peeled and Nataku's sensors set to maximum. Nothing will catch me off guard.

Nearly two hours have passed and no strikes have been made. It may seem safe but I don't relax. My shoulders are starting to ache with tension and tendrils of that ache are crawling up the back of my neck. But I'm no fool. Letting one's guard down is suicide. And if I really want to be suicidal, I'm taking those bastards with me.

My eyes graze the sky and I finally see what I've been waiting for. Nataku sees them too, for a small light flickers on and her target and zoom systems activate. The black specks on the horizon are the two transport carriers surrounded by at least a dozen fighter planes, probably carrying a mobile suit or two each. So they are, indeed, expecting me. Good. This will make things more interesting.

I set my jaw in determination, nudging Nataku into activity. I will allow them five minutes before I attack, pretending to give them the opportunity to turn back now if they wish. They will if they're wise.

Yeah right.

Four minutes and counting.

Three.

Two.

One.

I throw the throttle, toggle the thrusters, and Nataku races airborne. I can almost hear the wind screaming behind her. The carriers spot me but it's too late. Oh yes, it's _much_ too late.

Nataku belches fire and we take care of the three closest escort planes in a single burst.

"You think you can defeat me like _this_!?" I scream.

The dragon fang shoots and, maw gaping, plunges deep into the core of another plane, tearing it to shreds. The morning sky bleeds gaseous fire and shrapnel. The sight is a visual drug and it spurs me onward.

The planes I have yet to attack drop their mobile suits and I snarl. They are so naïve! I will not be done in by their suits! I haul out Nataku's beam glaive. A single slash, two mobile suits burst like bubbles.

"_Stop wasting my fucking time!_" I shoot down another pair. With an extra burst of speed, I launch Nataku at the carriers, slashing through others as I pass. After all, we're just getting started.

The carriers' support group throw themselves in my path. Suicidal morons! I attack with a wordless scream of rage. The sky around me is choked with smoke and falling parts.

Imagine my surprise when Nataku warns me of the approach of an entirely different formation of fighter planes. The sensors squawk yet again and a third formation is flanking me.

I hiss. I knew it. I had walked into a trap. Shit! Still, I am surprised. Unbeknownst to me, I had let my guard down.

"You _bastards!_" I yell.

I _knew _I should've arrived earlier.

My hands fly over Nataku's controls as I assess the situation. Destroy the carriers. That was my mission. The others… they can fuck themselves for all I care. My eyes narrow on my targets. I will go for them. I will destroy them and anyone who gets in my way, even if I have to self-destruct to do it! I rush the carriers under a hail of laser fire. Ha! Touch me if you dare, you bastards!

Apparently they dare on the verge of being suicidal. A blast hits Nataku's side and we are sent reeling off course. I grit my teeth until they ache, fighting to regain control of her. I throw a switch and she belches more fire, destroying a few more fighters. This victory is fleeting and bitter. There is a shot to Nataku's head, taking out her guns. The force slams my head back against my chair. I can feel the whiplash immediately and my nose starts bleeding profusely.

Damn, damn, damn!

Blood drips onto my pants and I can taste its unique and unpleasant metallic tang on my lips.

There are just too many… I can't get close enough.

Fuck this, they aren't taking me!

I smash the catch on a safety window and pull out Nataku's self-destruct switch. I nearly slam my thumb on the button when Nataku's sensors pick up even _more_ fighters outside this battle. "Oh god…" I groan hoarsely. I am in way over my head. "Show me."

There is a visual feed now of these extra fighters and, after a hazy moment, I recognize them. They are Gundams Deathscythe and Sandrock.

What. The. Hell?

My vision clears at the sight. Furious now, I make a communications connection between the three of us. Maxwell and Winner's faces hover on my screen. "What the hell are you two doing here!?" I shout.

"Nice to see you too!" Maxwell whoops. In the battle around me, I see Deathscythe tearing into fighter planes left and right. Maxwell is in Shinigami mode- loud, obnoxious, and ready to rend OZ to pieces. Battle-lust is in his eyes. He's so…

No!

"Not long after you left, I guess, we got a message from the doctors," Winner explained, doing his own version of ass kicking. It brings my head back into focus immediately.

"A message?" I repeat stupidly. I blame it on blood loss.

"Yeah! The Intelligence data they sent you was apparently incomplete. Imagine that! Since Trowa's working on a infiltration operation of his own and the Wing is still under for repairs, Quatre and I are here to save you're sorry ass!"

I'm seething now. They have ruined it! Justice abandoned me again! "Get out of here, you bastards! I don't need saving! I can handle it!"

"Sure." As if he didn't believe me…

Damn Maxwell!

Nearly blind with anger I suddenly, inexplicably can't control, I don't see it behind me.

"Wufei, watch out!" I dimly hear Winner shout through the waves of rage crashing around in my head.

There is a crunch. A series of explosions. Despite my restraints, my body lunges forward and my head cracks with Nataku's controls. For a brief moment there is a flash of blinding white pain.


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 8:**

Through the black veil of semi-consciousness… maybe… I hear them.

"…multiple contusions that… mild concussion… means… broken bones… if you ask me… surprised he's even still alive…" The voice is familiar. I think. It's a woman. I think. No. No more thinking. It hurts to think.

"… okay?" This voice is familiar too. A voice that I … no, thinking still hurts.

My consciousness floats along, noting an itch here, a burning sensation there. My chest hurts like hell. And I can't tell what's going on down my legs. Are they numb? I suppose they are. I feel something in my arm. No. Needle. Take it out!

Panic causes the veil to shrink. The voices are clearer now and the words aren't so jumbled.

"His readings are stable, though they reflect unconsciousness." It's the woman's voice again. "Little has changed-"

"We're Gundam pilots. We're a lot tougher than we look. And I have no doubt that Wufei, like Heero, has been trained to control such a thing." This voice I recognize as Winner's. Smart kid, that Winner. His voice is tense and tired and, surprisingly, a bit annoyed. Didn't think he was capable of being annoyed.

"You may be right. But right now that means little to me," the woman replies. "I know what I see. And unless he opens his eyes and starts talking, I am going to believe the readings."

So I listen to her. After all, I don't want to disappoint. With effort I open my eyes. My eyelids feel like they're being weighed down by forty-pound barbells. Lined with sandpaper. I try to say 'take this fucking needle out of my arm!' but my tongue is thick and my chapped lips too sluggish to form the words. Instead, it comes out more like "hrn…"

Three heads swivel towards me as one. Creepy. Immediately the woman, who I recognize now as Dr. Sally Po, flicks her gaze to the beeping contraption to my right. The sound is annoying the hell out of me, but it seems to astound her.

"Not a single change," she murmurs. "Truly amazing."

Well what did she expect? I am no amateur at hospital visits, unconsciousness, or capture- though, with Winner and Maxwell standing next to her quite free as birds, I assume this is not a capture.

I try to speak again. I want this needle out of my arm immediately! I want out of this place just as soon! But that function has yet to reconnect with my brain.

"How are you feeling?" Winner asks.

"Hrn…"

Maxwell glances at him. "Do you think he has amnesia?"

I glare at him. Did he _really_ just ask that stupid question? Do I _look_ as though I have amnesia!?

"No, I don't think so. Not with that expression."

Did I mention that Winner is smart?

I try to push myself to a sitting position- I hate feeling like an invalid- but Dr. Po grabs my shoulders and presses me back down. "No you don't. You need to rest. You're not superhuman you know. And we still need to do some tests."

I now fix my glare on her. Who does she think she is? I am fully capable of taking care of myself, thank-you-so-_very­_-much. I fight against her grip and I am mortified to find that I am too weak to break it. Dammit!

I lick my chapped lips. Finally, they are capable of operating. "Let… _go_," I manage to croak with as much vehemence as I can muster. Which, unfortunately, is not a lot. My voice is raspy and certain parts of the words get lost in the back of my throat.

She matches my severe look. "Only if you _stay in bed!_ You need to heal. Now, I _know_ you boys are capable of amazing things. I've seen it many times with my own eyes. You have incredible strength in character and in mind and body- far more of all of that than most adults- but you're not invincible! You're only sixteen for God's sake! Working with the injuries you have can only do more harm than good. There are times when you just have to step back. You need to take care of yourself."

I continue to glare but it becomes evident that I won't win this argument. "Fine," I concede, though I am not happy with it.

She doesn't look convinced but she releases my shoulders after a minute anyway. She probably would've sat on me to ensure that I would stay put. However, her beeper chooses this time as a convenient one to squawk at her and she excuses herself, insisting that if I even _think_ of leaving there will be hell to pay. Oh, yeah. Right. I'm not afraid of the big bad blonde.

I glance at Winner for the obvious reason that I can't look Maxwell straight in the eye. "Where am I?"

"Dr. Po's medical office at their… rebel base, I suppose you could say."

I nod. That is fine enough. "What happened? How did I end up here?"

He sits on the edge of my nearly rock-solid bed. "Well, from what we saw-"

"-a pilot decided to go kamikaze on your ass," Maxwell interrupts. "Plowed into you from behind. It was a total fireball. The shrapnel alone took out a few of their own fighters."

I wince. It didn't sound good. "And Nataku…?"

"Damaged, but she can be repaired," Winner says, glancing at Maxwell. I am relieved. I don't have the time to wait for her to be rebuilt. "It looks worse than it is." He smiles slightly at me. "Kind of like you, right now."

I snort and then wince again at the pain it causes. It feels like my body's been through a meat packing plant…

"Yeah… you may want to be careful there, Wufei. You have three broken ribs," Maxwell points out. "Among _many_ other things…"

I look away hastily. "And the mission?" Silence ensues. I frown. This is not a good sign. I manage to look back, fixing the two of them with a glare. "What happened on the mission?"

"Well… we were partly successful," Winner says carefully.

"Partly successful?" How can there be partial success? Either there is success or there isn't. There is no in-between.

"Meaning we partly failed," Maxwell points out.

"I _know_ what that means! I want to know what you mean by it! How can you…" I stop my rant only because my throat feels so raw it must be nearly bloody and I _can't_ continue with this vein of anger in my voice. Besides, it's no use. My voice keeps giving out and squeaking at irregular intervals. It completely loses the effect of my anger. Damn, I must have been truly screwed over in that crash.

"Well, we destroyed one carrier-"

"But it was a decoy. The other managed to get away," Winner finishes up.

"How is that in any way, shape, or form _successful!?_" I demand. Raw throat be damned!

"We didn't die, get captured, or completely _fail_ in any way, shape, or form," Maxwell replies. "We destroyed most of the support troops and one of the carriers… Just the –er, wrong one."

I clench my fist. "And… why didn't you chase the other one down?" I ask in a dangerously low voice.

"We had to get you out of there," Winner says, albeit a bit hesitantly. I'm not the best person to cross. Only justice has been able to get away with it so far.

"No you didn't!" I yelp despite myself. My throat nearly closes up in protest. I pause and attempt to breathe before continuing. "You should've hunted them down!"

"They were going to capture you, you moron!" Maxwell shouts back. "We couldn't let that happen. Not all of us are as cold as you are, you know?"

I glare at him. He looks like he's ready to hit me. Does he think he can get away with it? In the mood I'm in, I just may go nuclear on his ass. I nearly dare him to try, but Winner stops me.

Clearing his throat, he interjects awkwardly, "I'm going to call the other two and let them know you're okay." Oh hell, like they'd really even care. He slips out before I can object.

And he leaves me. Alone. With Maxwell.

Oh shit.

A very uncomfortable silence passes between us. I don't know what _he's_ doing, but I'm doing my best to look everywhere but at him. I dearly wish I could despise him right now. And I damn myself because I can't.

"When… when we found you, you had the switch gripped in your hand. You… were going to self-destruct, weren't you?"

The sound of his voice, extremely quiet for Maxwell, catches me off guard. The question throws me even more.

"If I had to," I reply stiffly.

"That's stupid."

"Is it? I'm sorry I can't be as _brilliant_ as you, Maxwell. I'm sure under similar circumstances, you'd have done the same."

He snorts loudly and I am reminded of a bitter old horse. I don't tell him this, however. "My name is Duo! _Duuuoooo._ Spelled D-U-O and pronounced exactly how it looks."

"Not this argument again…"

"It wouldn't be an argument if you'd stop calling me Maxwell like I'm a stranger you have no use for!"

Have no use for him? Me? He doesn't even realize how fucking obsessed I've been over him. Of course… I guess it's no help when I tell him I've been trying to not like him… With a frown, I finally look at him. His eyes are bright with frustration and bloodshot with what seems like little sleep. Dark smudges under his eyes confirm the theory.

Had he been worried about me? Damn. I think he has been. Suddenly, I feel like an ass. I look away, gripping the coarse sheets in my hands.

"I'm… sorry," I mutter. These words are difficult to say which makes it at least ten times worse. I truly feel like an ass now. I can't even apologize properly.

He shrugs. "Just remember I have a first name too."

I sigh. Can't he just read my mind and know what I mean? I struggle to sit up, gritting my teeth so hard against the pain that my jaws feel ready to crack. The room spins. My vision blacks out for a moment and it seems like I'm falling back, though I don't feel myself hitting the bed again. My vision slowly clears again and I see that I'm just teetering unsteadily. God, what a trip.

I groan and grip my throbbing head. "I meant about yesterday, or the day before, or whatever day it was prior to this mission…" I take a deep, painful breath and I nearly choke on it. I let out a few shuddering coughs that threaten to tear my chest in two.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it, man." Maxwell hands me a glass of water. "Hey. Breathe."

"I'm… trying!" I sputter. I think I taste blood. What luck I have. Taking the glass with a vise grip, I take an equally painful swallow of the water. I choke again as my throat constricts, trying to refuse the tepid liquid, but I manage to regulate my breathing after that moment of humiliation.

He's giving me a concerned look. I want to die in shame. I don't want anyone concerned for me. Especially not in this pathetic state.

He holds out his hand and I gingerly hand the glass back to him. Our hands just barely brush and I feel my blood rush through my veins. My skin is prickling from the contact. I'm just like some damned girl! I withdraw my hand quickly and a second silence passes between us. The beeping on the damned machine beside me seems to be screaming as if trying to compensate. Somehow, over that sound, I become acutely aware of the sound of Maxwell breathing. It's shallow and about as uncertain as I am feeling at the moment.

With effort, I swallow hard and look at him. He's doing the same I was earlier- glancing around, trying to distract himself from this discomfort.

"Listen," I mutter. He jumps. Under other circumstances, I might have laughed at him. Right now, I don't think I'm capable of it. "Listen," I repeat. He looks at me attentively, indigo eyes burning into my very skin. I am intimidated by that look. Damned weakling… that's me. "I- Well, it's not _okay_. I said some things without- without thinking and… well… I just want you to know I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Hmm… Wufei? Apologizing? Is Armageddon on its way al_ready_?" He glances at his watch. "It's a few hours early, don't you think?"

I glare at him. "I am being serious here, you ass."

He is grinning faintly. "Me too. Look… I said it was okay. And it is. Honestly. I put you in an awkward position by asking you for help. And we're all entitled to a few mistakes. You just used one of yours up. Well, so did I… but that's beside the point."

Not this again. I recognize what he is saying behind that little joke. I thought this had been cleared up already. "I told you before it wasn't fucking charity."

"Wufei, we _both_ know-"

"Oh shut up! You think I'm _lying!?_" I hiss. Much easier on my aching ribcage. He glances askance and doesn't answer me. But his silence speaks volumes. Why does he have to be such a stupid ass? "We've been through this damned conversation already! If I wanted to be charitable, I'd donate some fucking money! I wouldn't be exercising the flabby existence of emotions I thought had been pounded out of me!" My nostrils are flaring and my breath is coming out in short, ragged puffs. My lungs are burning but I ignore them. "What do I have to do to get it through your thick skull!?"

"Buy me a pony," he says immediately.

I stare at him. What the hell?! How shallow…?

"Kidding… kidding…" He holds his hands up in surrender. "Sheesh, some people just can't take a joke. Wufei, you really need to listen to Sally, man. You need to rest."

"No. I want an answer." I get to my feet. Pain shoots through my left ankle. But I am a soldier and a man. I can withstand the pain. I can ignore the pain. The pain is banished from my mind. No, my eyes are not watering…

"You idiot, you shouldn't be- _oof!_"

I shove him against the wall, using him as a support more than he probably realizes. And certainly more than I'll ever admit aloud. The IV rips from my arm and I wince, nearly passing out right there. Did I mention I hate needles? I feel a trail of blood trickle down my arm. No. I must ignore this. Ignore this like he is ignoring me. "I said answer my question."

"Wu-"

"No! You will not ignore me anymore, dammit! Stop evading the question and answer it!" My balance is wavering but I fight it. This is nothing! I will overcome this! I laugh at this!

His face scrunches. Or is it my imagination distorting things? I can't tell. "Wufei, why is this important?"

My ankle is screaming in agony. Or is my ankle fine and it is the sound the rest of my body is making? Shut up! Shut up! I can't hear myself think! "Stop playing idiot, Maxwell." I grit my teeth against the darkness. I grip his shoulders so tightly it's likely going to bruise him. I don't care at the moment. He has to see. "You _know_ why it is! You _know!_" I will not falter. I will not falter. "You know the …an… swer." I'm losing. No. I'm past the losing stage. I've lost. Darkness has utterly defeated me. No, I can't be this weak! I feel as though I'm falling again. I think this time I actually am. I collapse into a vise- no… not a vise. A pair of arms.

"Wufei!?"

Is that distant word my name?

"You moron… All this for some stupid question… Just call me by my name…"

There is a whoosh and a ping. Door? "Duo! What happened to him?!"

I can't hear the response.


	9. Chapter 9

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 9:**

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

What the hell is that noise?

_Beep… Beep… Beep…_

Stop that incessant noise!

I open my eyes to find the source of that infuriatingly repetitive sound but I can't see a thing. My chest tightens. Oh shit, have I gone blind? My gaze moves right. I see the source of the beeping. It's that box with a thin neon green line spiking across the screen, in time to each beep. Heart monitor. Or whatever. I don't know. I don't care.

Idiot.

I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. I'm not _blind_. It's dark- night, most likely. How dense can I get?

With effort, I push myself up to a sitting position. Dizziness threatens to overwhelm me. My body is protesting, but I couldn't give a damn. I do not care what that woman says. I will not remain here a second longer than I have to. I've successfully completed missions half-conscious before. I'm sure I can do it again.

There is a twinge in my arm when I move it, as if something is pulling it. I glance at it and realize that, at some point, the IV had been crammed back into my vein. I can feel something cool dripping steadily into my bloodstream. I control a shudder. Oh god… The needle itself is taped up from wrist to elbow to prevent another accidental removal, I guess.

Does anyone realize I can't stand needles? I abhor them. I loathe them. I wish to banish them to the darkest, furthest bowels of hell. Words can truly never express the magnitude of my hatred for them. Therefore, I do not want this needle in my arm!

I move to tear the tape apart and yank the horror of mankind out of my arm again when a snuffle attracts my attention. I freeze. Someone is in here… I wait for another sound but there is none. Slowly, I reach over and flick on the lamp next to me. The room is filled with a sickly orange-yellow glow. Poor lighting compared to what typically I work under. Still, I wince from the glare my eyes are not used to. But as my eyes adjust, I notice two others are in my room, one that had to be the source of the noise. Winner is sitting in one chair, head propped against the wall with mouth half open, sleeping like a baby. In the chair next to him, Maxwell is curled in an impossibly tight ball, wedged impossibly sideways in the chair, just as impossibly fast asleep using his jacket as a pillow to cushion the chair's narrow plastic arm.

I heave an exasperated sigh. They are such worrywarts. But… I suppose it's kind of them. I flip the sheets aside, intending to get up when, out of nowhere, a voice screeches, "OH NO YOU DON'T!"

I jump, looking around suspiciously. Maxwell topples face first out of his chair with a yelp and Winner awakens with a start, smacking his head against the wall with a '_thump_' that is probably audible three doors down.

"What the hell!?" I croak. I see no source of the voice.

"Wufei, you are to _stay in bed!_" Dr. Po, I presume.

My gaze skims the walls. Aha! I zero in on a small box, the same bland ivory color of the walls, in the upper left corner of the room. How discreet. I would've never seen it if she hadn't started yelling.

"You're inhuman, do you know that!?" I shout at the box.

"And you're injured! You will stay in bed or so help me God I'll strap you down!"

"Kinky," Maxwell mutters.

"Not funny, Duo."

"Well, I've seen you do it. You strapped down Heero once… Sally has an interesting fetish- strapping down impressionable young boys-"

"_What did I just say, Duo!?_"

"Dishonor!" I shout, ignoring their foolish banter. "Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your family! Dishonor on your… your _base!_ I will _not_ be kept here against my will!" Mustering as much strength as I can, I throw one of my pillows at the box, which I assume contains a camera and speaker. It falls short and hits Winner instead. Still sleepy, he simply looks stunned.

"What's going _on_?" he insists in a groggy tone, rubbing the back of his head.

"We have a peeping tom for a doctor," Maxwell explains before I can open my mouth.

"Enough of that! Or I'll send you two away," Dr. Po's voice thunders. She's so loud, her microphone squawks in protest. Damn, women can be unreasonable! Maxwell made a brilliant point with which I happen to agree. "And Wufei, I can't believe how difficult you're being!"

Like she is one to talk. "And I can't believe you're talking to me through a box!" Very weak argument, I realize.

"Speaker." Oh who cares!? "Obviously I can't sit by your side every second of the day. You have two friends with you to do that. And Noin and I are taking shifts with another nurse to make sure you don't do anything _stupid_."

I scowl at the box- no, _speaker_. "And what, pray tell, will you do to stop me from 'doing anything stupid'?"

"You don't want to know," she says in a threatening tone. I take this as she has no idea. "Now lay back down. Get some sleep. Or so help me God… you'll be sorry!" The speaker squawks with static and she is silent.

"She's a bit scary when she's angry…" Winner muses, glancing at the speaker.

I snort. "She's also barking mad if she thinks I'm going to stay just because she threatens me. Because I am not staying. There is nothing she can do to _make_ me stay. I want out of here _now_."

"But Wufei-"

"But nothing! I will leave even if I have to- hey!"

Maxwell pins me back to the bed and I find myself staring up at him. My pulse jumps about ten notches. If he notices, he says nothing about it. "Do us all a favor for once and listen to Sally."

"Excuse me? No. Let go of me _now_."

"Uh-uh. Don't think so."

Was he insane?! "I mean it-"

He leans in just inches from my face and smirks. "So do I. I can be as stubborn, if not _more_, than you. If I say stop, you'd better- Oh no you don't! Don't _make_ me tie you down! Because _I'll_ make good on Sally's threat… Though I can't say that I won't have my own ulterior motives."

_That_ shut me up. I feel my blood rushing to my face and I find myself strongly wishing that Winner and Dr. Po's box of spy capabilities were far, _far_ away. As it is, I see Winner blatantly staring in surprise. Who knows what's going on wherever the good doctor is viewing this.

I try to get angry. I really do. I try to yell, to fight, to punch Maxwell between those amazing eyes. And I _can't_. Any functions in my mind that control these actions are too busy remembering the warm and spicy taste of his mouth and the texture of his hair between my fingers. And the rest of me is trying to keep me from tasting and touching again for all the voyeurs to see.

I just called his eyes amazing for fuck's sake.

"Fine," I mutter, defeated by the mere _thought_ of him. I get the feeling he is quite aware of this and is using it to his advantage. Being familiar his history in battle scenarios, I know he is capable of such a simple deduction… And it fucking pisses me off!

Maxwell gives a loud '_whoop!_' and hops off, doing an idiotic victory dance. I scowl accordingly.

"Thank you, ladies…" He grins as Winner and I protest. "You have witnessed a miracle courtesy of Duo Maxwell, the one and _only_ master of persuasion!" He bows, adding grand flourishes with his hands. "No, no applause please! Just lots of money! Autographs will be signed-" With a yelp, he stumbles aside as both Winner and I throw a pillow at him.

----

A few days have passed. Dr. Po still seems to feel that I'm incapable of _breathing_ if I'm not under her constant supervision. For reasons unbeknownst to me, Maxwell and Winner are still hanging around. I won't argue though. I have every intention of using them to get out of this place.

It is night again. I take care to make it appear by all readings and casual observation as though I am sleeping. Across from me, I think Maxwell and Winner _are_ asleep. Not for long. I slowly grab a small handful of uneaten grapes off a plate from an earlier meal and carefully throw one at Winner, then at Maxwell. They sound like they hit. Winner snorts and Maxwell mumbles incoherently. And… that's it. Frowning, I throw another pair of grapes.

"What!?" Maxwell hisses. "Stop throwing things at me… whoever it is throwing things at me!"

"Shh…"

"Wufei? What's going on?" a sleepy voice asks.

Good. Winner's awake too. "I need your help getting out of here…" I say quietly, in hopes that Dr. Po's listening devices won't pick up on me.

"But-"

"No _but_," I hiss. There is no argument in hell that they could make that will keep me here. Not even Maxwell threatening to tie me down… honest… "One of you needs to take this IV out of my arm. Quietly," I add. There is no way in hell I'm going to do it.

"Neither of us are trained doctors, Wufei…"

"I am not either. What's your point?"

"My point is… you could get hurt."

Regardless, I feel a pair of hands gently lift my arm. In the very sparse moonlight filtering through the blinds, I see the outline of messy hair and a long braid being tossed over one shoulder. Maxwell. My face feels incredibly hot and I am grateful for the dark. I see the flash of a blade and moments later that cold blade is careful slipped beneath the tape. I'm surprised he possesses such an archaic tool. But it's wise. The glow of a thermal knife would give me away. The room fills with the slow, laborious sound of tape threads snapping. There is something painfully gentle about the way he is working. I swallow hard and try to think of other things. Like the beast of a needle in my arm.

"Hurry it up, will you?" I hiss, feeling uncomfortable under such care.

"I'm trying not to cut you," he hisses back.

In the background, Winner makes a faint noise of distress. I know he doesn't think this is such a wise idea. Not that I really care. Despite what he thinks, however, I hear him moving around the room and I realize he is gathering up what little things I have.

Goosebumps race up my arm as the tape is gingerly peeled away and cool air hits the slightly damp, exposed skin. It almost leaves me cold. Almost. Because seconds later he rips the tape away sharply, pulling out little hairs along my arm with brute force. "What the-!" I bite my tongue hard to keep me from shouting further.

"Like any bandage, getting it done quick makes it less of a chore. Now be quiet, will you? You're going to foil this escape if you keep making so much noise."

That's rich. Maxwell telling _me_ to be quiet? I nearly retort but he starts fiddling with the IV. Any comment I have is clamped in the back of my throat. It's ridiculous, really. I can blow up an entire base of enemy soldiers and mobile suits, calm as you please. I can run head on into a hail of gunfire without a second thought. I can fire a gun to kill at point blank range without even flinching. But I cannot stomach a needle anywhere in my presence. How asinine a fear to have. But there is something about a skinny, tiny, incredibly sharp piece of metal jamming purposefully into my flesh that makes me feel ill. Maybe it's a phobia. It doesn't help that I can feel it moving in my vein as Maxwell coaxes it out. The bizarre ticking noises he makes under his breath in time with each careful wiggle don't help.

"Stop making that ridiculous noise- just take it out already!" I hiss, unable to keep the strain of panic from my voice. I really hate this weakness… Along with certain others that I can't keep my mind on at the moment because of a certain damned needle. Perhaps this is a good thing.

"Shhh! I've got to be careful. I don't want to do anything horrible like… I don't know, puncture your vein or something," he says. I blanche. Was it _really _necessary to tell me _that? _"And I'm doing this in the dark. Kind of hard to see, you know. But don't worry. I've got everything under control- if you stop moving around, that is. So, you don't have to be afraid."

Oh so very reassuring. "I'm not afraid!"

"Er… right."

I can imagine him smiling. At _my_ pain! Again, I am torn between methods of wiping that imagined smile off his face. With Winner in the room, bashing Maxwell's head in with a bedpan sounds agreeable. I draw in a sharp breath as the needle slips out of my arm. Finally. It's done. My shoulders relax noticeably. Mentally, I berate myself.

"We don't have a lot of time before Sally or whoever is watching catches on," Maxwell points out.

I'm surprised she hasn't already. "Hmph. I'm ready. Is it safe to move?"

The door slides open and Winner peers out. "All clear."

"Okay. Let's go." I slide off the bed and nearly collapse right there. Apparently my ankle doesn't feel like it's ready to go. "Shit…"

Maxwell seizes my arm and pulls it around his neck, hauling me to my feet. Pulling me quite close to him. Dammit! I must stay focused! There is a jolt of pain in my chest when he pulls me to him. And there is pain in my arm where the IV had been as it presses against his neck. Yes. Pain. Think of this pain. Not this warm body I want to- "You heard the man. Let's blow this lemonade stand."

Fool! Clear your head, Chang!

"I still don't think this is a wise move," Winner says.

"Listen…" I begin after a lot of effort on my part. "I can rest wherever I damn well please. Here is not where I please. I want to leave. Nothing is going to stop me. Certainly not some woman. Get me to Nataku."

"You have to love Wufei and his charming personality," Maxwell chimes in as we make our way towards the door.

"That's not funny."

"Oh but it is. It is."

Winner sticks his head out the door. After a moment, he motions for us to follow. "Your Gundam is most likely hidden in the same hangar with ours."

I nod, concentrating hard on just walking. My ankle still won't accept pressure so I am forced to walk with an exaggerated limp. And my entire body tense with trying to keep the shooting pain I'm refusing to recognize at bay.

"You okay?" Maxwell asks.

I simply give a firm nod, unable to trust my voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him giving me a critical look. He doesn't believe me. I suppose I can't blame him. My act isn't convincing- even _I_ am having trouble believing me.

"We can still go back. You really should rest." Beside him, Winner nods.

I glare at them. "I'm fine. Don't ask me again."

They exchange looks but we keep moving. A good idea on their part.

Cautiously, we slip down a hall on our right. I hope they know where they're going because I certainly don't. Winner pauses, glancing around another corner. The coast is clear. The halls are virtually silent. I think nothing of it.

I see the exit now. I am surprised at how easy this is. It makes me wonder if someone is slacking on the job. I suppose someone ought to inform Dr. Po of failure in her staff.

Or maybe I'm just lucky son of a bitch.

Pardon me while I roll my eyes.

"Almost home free," Maxwell says.

And that's when the first blast rocks the building.


	10. Chapter 10

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 10:**

We barely have time to recover from the first explosion when a second blast sounds. The walls shudder, threatening to come crashing down around us. Plaster crumbles in great chunks from the ceiling, spreading dust far and wide, causing me to sneeze, and making Maxwell and Winner look as though they aged forty years in a matter of seconds. Maxwell hauls me back, slamming me into a nearby wall as a window across from us shatters explosively. I can't even think about the fact that his body is so close to mine because every ounce of breath I had left my lungs moments before. It feels like my chest has collapsed in on itself. I greedily choke down a gulp of air like a fish out of water. For a moment, the entire building is plunged into darkness. Then, emergency lights lining the walls flicker on, making the hall glow an eerie red.

"The base is under attack!" Winner shouts over screaming sirens, shaking the plaster dust from his hair.

"Yes, I've noticed! What was _your_ first clue!?" I manage to shout in a horrible, wheezy voice.

I suppose this explains the ease of my 'escape'. Of _course_ no one is around to keep an eye on me. They're too busy charging into battle, pretending they're capable of warfare. Weak fools.

"We have to help them!"

I look at Winner as if he's insane. Well, truth be told, I actually think he _is_ insane. "Pardon me?"

"We have to help!" he repeats.

"I heard _that!_ I am asking what the hell you're yapping about!"

He makes a face. "They're fighting OZ, Wufei! Like us, remember?" He gestures between the three of us. "Besides, it's likely we've been tracked here. This base is not an active one!"

I stare at him.

"OZ soldiers are here because _we_ are here!"

I scowl. "I understood the first time!" Dammit! I just want to leave. But… no. The Champion of Justice in me won't _let_ me- not without a fight. OZ soldiers are attacking. They are the bad guys. This is my chance to redeem my disgraceful failure. This is my chance to screw those bastards over. I growl under my breath. Damned justice! I thought I decided that I wasn't going to be on her side anymore! "Oh fuck it, just get me to Nataku."

"_You're_ in no condition to be fighting, Wufei!" Maxwell protests, dragging me down the hall. "Let Quatre and me handle it-"

"Do _not_ treat me like some damned invalid! It's not like I'm going to be running around on foot brandishing a rifle over my head! I'll be completely surrounded by _Gundanium armor_. Pretty damned indestructible. So stop fucking arguing with me because you won't win and take me to Nataku!"

He frowns, giving me a very un-Maxwell look and finally nods in wordless consent. The three of us head out the door, ducking into the shadows as jets scream overhead, dropping explosives and seasoned soldiers onto the base's motley collection of mobile suits.

Winner leads us to a dilapidated hangar and he squeezes between a rusty door that's firmly stuck ajar. This hangar looks as though a pebble might do it in. Miracles _must_ exist if it was able to stand for _this_ long. I frown as Maxwell shoves me through the doorway as if my body is meant to squash that way. Never mind the fact that it _hurts like hell!_

My eyes adjust to the darkness and I see our Gundams standing in a docking bay. Nataku is between the Sandrock and the Deathscythe looking for all the world like they too are supporting her. Like Gundam like pilot, I guess. Her shell is covered with black scorch marks and ash, not to mention the dust that has been falling from the trembling ceiling. Part of her head is crushed into a flat plane- likely what she landed on first after the fall…ouch- and I can't even begin to fathom what it looks like on her back, where that ass of a pilot crashed into her. I continue to stare, assessing the damage in shock.

"Like I said before, it looks worse than it is," Winner says quietly, coming up beside me. "The base's mechanics managed to get the guns back online, so really all you're looking at is surface damage."

With effort I manage to start breathing again. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go."

Maxwell guides me to Nataku as Winner goes to his Sandrock. "Are you sure you really want to do this?"

"I'm doing it regardless." I stick my good foot through the base of the pull-chord and wrap a hand around the chord itself.

"I still don't think it's a good idea."

I glance at him, arching a brow, hand hovering over the recoil lever. "Are you challenging my decision?"

"Well yeah, obviously. Look… you could get hurt, man!"

"Uh… we all could. And I don't know if you noticed, but I'm already hurt. So what difference does it make?"

He gives me an exaggerated sigh. "You're such an idiot. Fine. Just don't die, okay?" A slight grin lights his face and I am suspicious. "After all, I still have to make good on Sally's threat, you know," he says in my ear.

He laughs and trots off towards Death while I sputter stupidly, speechless. Suddenly (yet not surprisingly…) I am officially distracted from the battle (again with the damned vision of skin and chestnut hair), which is astounding, considering the eardrum-bursting sounds of carnage and explosions going on around us. And I call myself a soldier!? I should just call myself a horny bastard and be done with it. But I don't. For my distraction doesn't last for long. A strike rattles the hangar dangerously and a support beam comes crashing down from the ceiling right before us. I shake my head to clear it, rising into Nataku. Taking a shallow breath, I secure the chord, and slide into Nataku's seat.

It's like seeing an old friend as I sink into the comfort and familiarity of her sights and smells.

"It's been a while, Nataku. Why don't we settle the score with OZ, eh?"

Next to me, Maxwell is already goading Deathscythe into battle. With his usual flair for dramatic entrances, he doesn't bother with the hangar door. He simply crashes into the wall, tearing it back as if it was paper instead of sheetrock and steel. Winner and I follow as the hangar crumbles around us.

"We'll surround them," Winner says, his face flickering onto the corner my view screen. "I'll head to the left, Wufei, you go right, and Duo-"

"I take them head on!" he shouts.

"Good luck," Winner says. I see his face set into a grim expression and then he is gone. Moments later Sandrock is tearing its way through enemy pilots. Maxwell, however, is not.

I glance at him with a frown. "Yes?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "Just… be careful, you jerk. Okay?"

Dammit… Don't worry about me… I don't think I can stand it.

"I understood that the first time."

"I mean it Wufei."

I feel my expression soften involuntarily. Shit. I'm a soldier for crying out loud. "I'll be fine. I'm a Gundam pilot, remember? I'm made of tougher stuff than _that_ mad lot." I gesture to the others embroiled in the conflict.

He smirks. "I'll be waiting to say 'I told you so'."

"Don't hold your breath."

He takes a deep breath and holds it, pursing his lips. With a cheeky expression, he waves goodbye and the connection breaks.

I snort, but it is a slightly amused one. I guess it's nice to see Maxwell is still up to his psychotic antics.

"They're waiting," I murmur to Nataku, smashing aside an enemy mobile suit. "And you know how I hate disappointing them." With a wordless battle cry, I charge into the middle of the battle, tearing, cutting, smashing, utterly _destroying_ the enemy. My blood is roaring molten hot through my veins and I can forget about my injuries. For the first time in several days I feel so _alive_.

The air around me is filled with fire, shrapnel, and smoke as mobile suits from both sides are torn to pieces. Several buildings are already on fire. I think Dr. Po is yelling at me through a video feed, but I'm not paying attention. I am a soldier. I'm where I belong. And she cannot stop me

Come and get it, you OZ bastards.

----

I feel cold- so very cold. My entire body is in total agony. And I can't think of why. I try to roll onto my back but the moment I attempt to move, a pain rips through my chest. I hiss sharply, slouching back onto my side. I am left breathless for nearly an entire minute. It feels like an eternity. White spots swim before my eyelids.

I try to recall what happened. _Mobile suits going down as if they had been covered in gasoline and then set on fire. Endless bouts of gunfire. Explosions all around. I had charged head on into battle, letting my instincts take over. They had always served me well before, so why wouldn't they now? Along with Deathscythe and Sandrock, Nataku and I brought a new meaning of fear to the fools who chose to fight for OZ. _

So how did I end up in this position of great discomfort…?

I haven't opened my eyes yet. It's still safer to just continue trying to remember.

_I fought as though I had never been injured. It was glorious, really. I was able to forget my pain. Heh. Those fools didn't know what hit them._

_Nataku belched fire in the face of those stupid enough to challenge me. The dragon fang ripped the guts out of others that tried to evade my reach. As if they could. Bullets exploded into the air, puncturing those who dared to stand in my way. Yes, as Winner informed me, the guns were back online._

_I was relentless in my pursuit. I was fearless. Merciless. I was justice at its finest._

So what happened?

My head throbs uncomfortably as though it doesn't want me to continue down the path my thoughts are heading. Of course I ignore this warning and plow on.

_For some reason, I had become the target of the assault. Soldiers were actually _abandoning battle _with Maxwell and Winner to join the fight against me. I couldn't understand their logic. Sandrock and Deathscythe tried to follow, but other soldiers swarmed into their paths. They were singling me out. Why!?_

"_They're certainly on you tonight. What are you, a bitch in heat?" I hear Maxwell ask as his face flickers onto my screen. _

"I have no… grrr… fucking… umph… CLUE!" Abandoning my weapons for a brief instant, Nataku and I reached over and, after a moment of struggle, tore the head off the nearest mobile suit. The resulting explosion took out three suits nearby.

"_Well, we're trying to get over there."_

"_I'm fine-" Nataku stumbled forward under the force of an unexpected blow. My body was thrown forward and only shielding my face with one arm kept me from smashing it on the controls._

"_Wufei!"_

"_I said I'm _fine!" _I shouted, tearing into the bastard who dared to touch me._

_But… no… I wasn't fine._

My head is aching something terrible now. I know I don't want to know what happened next, but I force myself to continue. Maybe I'll wake up and realize this is just a dream of bad taste.

_Despite his claim, Maxwell and Winner weren't able to make it to me. Those OZ bastards seemed more determined than usual. _

I knew I was losing, not only to OZ but to myself as well. I could feel my consciousness slipping. But no. I wouldn't admit it. I couldn't. I was still surrounded. I couldn't go down. I wouldn't go down. I was stronger than this!

_Another blow came. I saw it coming. I _saw _it. I moved to react. But I couldn't. My reaction time was too slow. For the second time in only a few days, my head snapped back against my seat. Pinpoints of light exploded before my eyes. _

_My chest suddenly felt tight and I tore at the restraints holding me in place. I had to breathe. I had to breathe. I had to-_

I forgot the fight. That was my last mistake.

There was another strike. My view screen completely died. I had hit something hard, I didn't remember what, but there was a stream of blood tricking down the side of my face. I could feel it. Blissfully black unconsciousness swam before my eyes and I gave into it.

I groan inwardly at the memory. So that explains the additional pain. I'm such a stubborn idiot. I should've listened to Maxwell and Winner… and, all right, Dr. Po as well. I shouldn't have joined the battle.

But my memory doesn't explain one thing. Where am I? I suppose it's time I open my eyes and find out. So I do. Barely. Perhaps it's still dangerous. Through narrowed eyes, I take in my surroundings. Steel surrounds me on six sides, I'd wager. There is a flat ledge on my right, perhaps a bed, perhaps a toilet- it's a bit hard to tell sideways. It seems I'm the only one in the room and I think I see the blinking red light of a security camera in the far upper corner. There is only one door and no sign of any windows. My arms and shoulders are cramping and I realize that they are encased in thick cuffs made from Gundanium. Shit. Realization hits me like a fucking load.

I've been captured.


	11. Chapter 11

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 11:**

It's been an hour since I first realized I'd been imprisoned. I have yet to let my captors know I'm alert, however. Part of the reason is just due to the fact that my body protests to most any movement I make. And part is because I'm trying to make myself completely aware of my surroundings before some power-tripping moron comes to collect me for interrogation, torture, execution, or some wild combination of the three.

So I lay there, biding my time, thinking. I'm not very successful at it because twinges of pain keep distracting me.

About ten minutes earlier I heard the murmur of gossip outside the door. It immediately told me two things. One is that there is a guard. I'm not sure whether or not there is more than one yet, but I'll know soon enough. And the other is obvious- this room is not completely soundproof. It doesn't really matter much, but it is more than I knew an hour ago. It might be something I can use to my advantage. Assuming, of course, I can clear my head enough to think of a plan to get out of here.

I keep a lock-pick on my person for a situation such as this, but how to reach it without drawing attention to what I'm doing? Do I even still _have_ it? I wonder… Well, I know the answer to the first question. There is no way to check for the pick, unless I can somehow estimate the location of the camera's blind spot. Right now I can't even roll onto my back. And thusly, my second question will remain unanswered.

I force my body to relax as much as possible as I start methodically combing my brain for escape plans. This is only safe because I know I'm not connected to any devices that monitor my vitals in any way, shape, or form. All I have to do is _look_ unconscious. Not that hard.

I don't have much time to plan, however, because I hear the door to my cell slide open. Heavy booted feet walk in and stop somewhere in front of me. My breathing is steady and I remain motionless. I don't fear what's to come. I'm a bit surprised, however, when my 'guest' starts talking.

"You know… a lot of my men died because of you," says a gravelly male voice I don't recognize. "'Course, that's what happens when you're in this line of work, isn't it?" No shit. "But how the hell did _you_ manage to cause that much trouble, eh? You're just a damn kid."

I can't help mentally bristling at the comment. Just a kid my ass. Is it _really_ that surprising?

"I know you're conscious," the voice grumbles in an attempt to be menacing. "Open your eyes when I'm talking to you, you little son of a bitch."

Naturally, the rebellions 'kid' in me ignores him. Yeah. Right. That 'kid' is gone, if it ever existed. He will get intimate with that fact soon enough. I'm a well-trained soldier in top condition… well, usually. And I'm no fool. I realize he could be bluffing. After all, I've given no signs of consciousness. There's no way I'm going to prove him right unless absolutely necessary. But when that time comes, he will regret calling me 'just a kid'.

I'm in the middle of a silent rant against his comments when I feel the hard toe of a boot thrusting into my diaphragm and up under my ribcage. My breath is knocked out of me in a mighty whoosh. Christ, it hurts! I manage to hold back all but the slightest of groans.

"I said open your eyes, punk."

I must remain calm. I must put my mind at ease. Relax. This corporeal form is just one means of existence. Be at peace. Inhale… I forget exhaling and I nearly crash from my meditation. It hurts too much to breathe.

There is another kick and I swear I'm going to vomit blood. I feel its foul burn in the back of my throat. Damn bastard. I am angry. The only thing keeping me from kicking his ass is the fact that I have no escape plan. Run off with no plan and I'll still be the prisoner, just in a hell of a lot more trouble than it'll be worth.

There is a crackle of static. I realize that he has a walkie-talkie squawking at him. How pathetically outdated. I strain to hear what it says, but the message escapes me. Apparently, Super Bastard understands because he turns from me and grunts an affirmative. I take this time to squint at him. He has a head of short but messy black hair and a deep scar along his jaw. He looks rugged, in his early to mid forties with a lot of muscular bulk. That's more likely show than actual power, though I doubt he's sparse in that category either. I log all of this away in the back of my mind.

"You're lucky I'm a busy man, kid." He kicks me a final time for good measure and then leaves.

'_No_,' I think. 'You're _the lucky one._'

Outside the door, I hear him mutter something along the lines of "I'll be in a meeting with the Commander. Inform me when the whelp stops playing dead."

"Sir!"

And with a loud _chink!_ the door is locked.

I reassess what I know. There is a guard outside the door of the room that is not soundproof. And apparently there is only one. This base is _not_ equipped with the best of technologies, which just might make my job easier. And the bastard who just visited possesses a high enough rank (or enough battle experience) to deserve the respect the guard gave him. I sigh. This is not enough.

With the subtlest of movements, I press my ear flat to the floor and sink into a meditative state, quieting the sounds of my body so I can listen to any vibrations of movement going on around me. It takes a while to block out the sounds of chatter going outside my door and the constant twinges of pain in various limbs, but I persevere.

Finally, I can pick up on some of the muffled sounds of a building teeming with activity. I hear a rumble, a squeak, a ping… an elevator- clearly ancient by all the noise it makes- is nearby, perhaps less than a few doors down from this room. There is the sound of footsteps, far heavier and more resounding than any human could make. Mobile suits. On this floor. That gives me a general idea of my location. This would either be the ground floor or the basement level, depending on the architectural structure of the building. No higher simply owing to the fact that the mobile suits weigh an astounding amount (try metric tons) and they would cause the building to collapse under the strain.

Those fools. I mock them and their presumed superiority. This isn't the wisest place to put a prisoner. It's far too easy to escape on a floor so near the exit. Easy enough to insult my intelligence. I could break out of a place like this when I was eight. But I'll save my scoffing for another time.

Right now all I need is a plan.

----

My head is still spinning. There is a reason for that, of course. Once they realized I was conscious (courtesy of me shouting obscenities at the camera out of sheer frustration- no, not one of my best ideas), the bastards came and they tortured. Clearly, they didn't get what they wanted from me because they dumped me back onto the floor of this freezing cold cell for later, probably assuming I'd crack after waiting for another round. Fools. As if a bit of pain will have me revealing all to the likes of them. I've been trained to endure far worse.

However, I know those in OZ usually exercise more humane methods of extracting information. They must be getting desperate. We're too much of a problem and the central powers demand answers their subordinates can't supply. The thought pleases me.

Still, I can barely sit up. Plopped lifelessly onto the flat, hard surface that is supposed to be a bed, I have to use a wall to hold me up. I manage an ironic smirk. Archaic their methods might have been, but they were thorough. And my previous injuries just aided their cause. It won't be long before they realize it.

I lick my cracked lips and taste dried blood. I would laugh if I had it in me. They must be cheering, celebrating their victory. They have one of the mysterious Gundam pilots. As if that's such a big deal. Idiots. There are still four others. We won't be taken down so easily. _I_ won't be taken down so easily- not by the likes of _these_ pathetic weaklings.

They're probably trying to extract data from Nataku to see how she works. Good luck with that. Only the mad doctors and I have her access codes. Still, I realize what sort of position I'm in. Should they manage to crack her codes, the others could be revealed. We could be in store for a hell of a lot of trouble. I must prevent that from happening.

It makes me cringe to think about those morons probing around in her wiring.

Plan. I really need a plan. If I can move even my toes, that is. I try but the movement escapes me. I guess I should rest as well. A plan will do me no good if I can't move.

Moments later I find my mind wandering, though I didn't give it permission to do so. The battle. Did the other two make it out okay? I haven't thought about them since I regained consciousness. Were they captured too? I groan suddenly when I realize what I'm doing. Dammit, I've become soft. Since when did _I_ worry about the safety of the other pilots? '_Since you've become so psychotically obsessed with a very specific one of those pilots_,' says a nasty little voice in my head.

Okay! Fine! I fucking admit it! I'll shout it to the damned _universe_ if I must! I'm head over heels, around the world, crazy in love with Duo Maxwell! Yes! There! Happy now!? I've admitted the full extent of my fucked-up feelings. Now can I _please_ get back to the situation at hand?! That nasty little voice is silent, which is fine by me.

My eyes close and I take a deep breath. Now that my revelation has been dealt… A plan. I need. A fucking. Plan. I clear my mind and let my aching, battered body sink into a state of meditation again. My thoughts are free to roam (okay, mostly free- rabid snapping dogs keep them away from thoughts of a certain person who would otherwise occupy my entire mind). I consider escape routes and calculate possible scenarios I might encounter that would prevent my escape. It is going well when I hear the whiz of the door opening and then closing. Oh wonderful. They've come to torture again, I suppose.

"Oh my… he looks terrible! Do you think he's alright?" a familiar voice asks.

Damn voice! He's interrupting my flow of thoughts!

"Yeah. Well, he's alive at least, I mean. I've seen him do this before. It's meditation or whatever. Or maybe he's dead… It's… er… hard to tell at this point."

I recognize this voice as well. How could I not, when the owner of it is well… I've said it often enough. I open an eye. He's a moron. But I look at him. Dammit… he's amazing… Dammit, dammit, dammit!

Maxwell's face alights with a grin and he nudges Winner, who is standing beside him looking like a worried hen. "I knew it! He was just meditating. Get up, man. We're here to rescue you!"

"Rescue?" I croak… yes, stupidly.

"Yes… I think that's what they call it when someone tries to smuggle another someone out of enemy hands. Did that last hit addle your brains?"

I make a face at him. My reaction is a bit subdued for me. Winner and Maxwell both exchange looks that are likely about me.

"Can you move?" Winner asks, coming over next to me.

"Hardly." I scowl slightly. "Guess I should've taken your advice eh?"

"I'll berate you later. Now we just have to get you out of here."

"You're on camera, you know?" I nod towards the infernal box.

"Come on, how novice do you think we are at this sort of thing? Give us _some_ credit at least," Maxwell says, stepping between Winner and me and grabbing my arm gently. "Quatre fed a loop through their camera system. Right now, they're watching you masturbate-"

"_Excuse me!?_" I manage to yell, staring at him, aghast.

"Kidding! God Wufei… you need to lighten up." I move to retort but he talks over me. Unsurprising. He is, after all, a freaking loudmouth. "As if anyone could catch _that_ on camera." He grins cheekily before I manage to smack the back of his head. "Ouch… Sleep. They're watching you sleep!"

Winner frowns, glancing at the camera. "But they'll only fall for it for maybe five minutes, if they're monitoring properly. So can we get out of here while we still have the chance?" he says, sounding as anxious as I'm starting to feel.

"Well, I'm not going to hold us up," Maxwell says, wiggling a slender pick he pulled from his hair in the lock of my cuffs. "It's our dear Wuffers' job to do that."

It is not… wait… _Wuffers?_ What the hell kind of name is that!? "Don't call me Wuffers! It's ridiculous!"

He just laughs at me and I know that he'll never let it go. "Well…come on, then. Up you go."

With a grimace, and a lot more of his help than I care to admit, I push myself to my feet. I stiffen as Maxwell pulls my arm around his neck and slips his hand around my waist. Dammit! I can't take much more of this torture. Something is going to have to be done.

"Are you okay?" Maxwell's voice breaks through my raging hormones and I force myself to focus on the question.

"Wonderful," I lie. It's amazing how I can forget about the mind-numbing agony coursing through my body when he's around. "Can we get out of here now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your shorts on."

With Winner leading the way, we carefully slip from my "cell". However, Winner is right in his assumptions for the bastards at this base aren't fooled for long by his loop. Emergency sirens start screaming and ahead of us, great doors- our most obvious escape- start grinding shut.

Maxwell groans and hauls me roughly from view. "Well, that's one plan shot down."

Dammit that hurt, you bastard!

"You thought they'd let me go with a cheery wave and a 'have a nice day'?" I ask, disgusted with their lack of planning savvy.

"Of course not. But it was an option," Winner murmurs, pulling a gun from a pocket hidden in his jumpsuit.

"Well, now for plan B," Maxwell mutters.

"You actually have a plan B?" This is already going from bad to worse. Winner is our only cover and Maxwell was stuck playing carthorse for me. I am decidedly angry at my incapacitation. Damn my carelessness! I'm a pathetic excuse for a soldier! I deserve execution! But I keep my wretched thoughts to myself.

"We have several, actually," Winner says quietly, leading us through a weaving succession of inanimate mobile suits and empty docking stands.

"What exactly _is_ this plan B?" I ask.

Maxwell grins and suddenly I feel ill. I don't like the look of that grin. That is his Shinigami grin. "Leaving how we came."

"And… do I want to know how you came?" I am pretty sure I don't want the answer, but he's telling me regardless.

"Through the air conditioning units."

I just _had_ to ask.


	12. Chapter 12

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 12:**

"Duo, I don't think Wufei is in any condition to be crawling around the air conditioning… or crawling at all, for that matter," Winner points out. Currently, we are hiding in the shadows of some old mobile suit parts as armed soldiers march by in droves, searching for me. Good lord, one might think that I am a danger to society.

I narrow my eyes at Winner's comment. So he thinks I'm too weak to crawl around for ten minutes or so, does he? "I can handle it," I tell him through clenched teeth. And how _dare_ he think otherwise.

He gives me an unusual look, exasperation bred with concern. "Now is _not_ the time to play 'Strongest Warrior'!" I glare at him. "What? It's the truth! Broken ribs and ankle, bruises and cuts and probably a concussion, and of course you probably haven't had anything to eat or drink in days, _and_ you haven't even _bathed_- if moving doesn't do you in, your smell will."

Hmph. Pardon _me_ for not smelling like a rose. They weren't exactly handing out baths here.

"So, all in all, I think I have a right to be concerned! The less we jeopardize this rescue the better, don't you think?"

"Of course I'd think so if I thought I was going to jeopardize anything! But I can handle it," I growl.

"Wufei-" Maxwell begins.

"No. You two aren't going to change my mind and right now we're just wasting time. Let's get out of here before I get mad."

"You mean you're not mad now?"

"I'm not amused."

"I'm not surprised."

"Are you two finished?" Winner is giving us an odd look.

"Yes," I mutter hastily, wishing he'd stop looking. Dammit, I _know_ he knows…

There is a break in the stream of soldiers and finally he gets his mind back on our escape. He glances around and then jerks his head in a motion for us to follow. Maxwell and I trot clumsily after him, looking like the world's stupidest, most uncoordinated three-legged race contestants.

Quietly, we round one corner, then another. This in itself is a mean feat, as I'm sorely tempted to mutter 'Ouch… Ouch… Ouch…' with every jarring step Maxwell takes. But I don't. I'm no fool. I'm still tempted to, though.

Winner leads us down a dark and narrow hallway. Holding a finger to his lips, he slowly pushes open the only door on the right. I wince as it squeaks on rusty hinges. It sounds deafening in my heightened state of awareness and the three of us wait with bated breath, wondering which soldier would hear the sound. Would come to blow our brains out. But after a minute of waiting, no one comes. We let out a collective sigh and slip quietly into the room.

Winner flicks the light switch, which, at first, I think is a terrible mistake. A single light sputters on feebly. I look up at the light fixture and notice that, out of three bulbs, two have been smashed. Beneath my feet, glass litters the floor. I glance at Maxwell, arching a brow, and he offers a cheeky grin, nodding slightly. Looking down, I notice several thin scratches peppering the hand with which he grips my waist. No, I'm not thinking about that hand, not at all… Mentally knocking my hormones back into shape, I roll my eyes. He has such a flair for dramatics.

Across the room, I notice a grate in the wall, hanging open over a desk. Maxwell drags me over and he and Winner help me climb onto the desk- something I'm thoroughly ashamed to admit…

"Invalids first," Maxwell chimes, smiling wickedly.

I scowl. "One day I'm going to kill you."

"No you won't."

My scowl deepens. Because he's right. I won't. Dammit!

I grip a ledge inside the ductwork and, with a lot of effort, manage to pull myself in. Immediately, it levels out and I smack my head on the low metal ceiling. I groan, gripping my head for a moment as the sound reverberates through the duct.

"All right in there?" Maxwell hisses, coming in after me.

"Just dandy."

"Well, get a move on. Nice though it may be, I don't want to stare at your derriere all day."

Growling, I lash my foot back and manage to kick his shoulder. He retaliates by shoving my foot forward with such force that for a moment my knee gets stuck beneath me. I hear him choke on a laugh as I struggle to resituate myself. "Now move. We have to get out of here. You'll want to low-crawl through all this because, well, as you can see, regular crawling is out of the question."

I wish to offer a witty retort but he's right- we had to get out of there. So I remain silent, saving my retort for later, and wriggle forward. The ductwork is alive with clangs and bangs as we move through it, trying to be as silent as possible. I think I overhear some soldiers in one room saying something about the 'damned air conditioning acting up again.' I roll my eyes. Idiots.

A few minutes pass and, to my complete aggravation, I realize that Winner was right. I'm _not_ in any condition to be crawling around, especially employing the low crawl. My arms and legs ache something awful and my lungs are burning. But I keep moving. No need for them to become worried mother hens on _my_ behalf. Besides, we can't be crawling that much longer, right?

"Turn left up ahead, Wufei," I hear Maxwell hiss.

I grunt to let him know I heard, incapable of making more sound than that. I turn left as instructed, with Maxwell and Winner wriggling on my heels. A creak sounds off like a gunshot, ringing down the duct. My stomach churns.

"Easy, easy," I hear Winner mutter.

Another creak.

Bad feeling. Very bad feeling.

The creaking explodes to a great crescendo, which nearly renders me deaf. With a mighty "Oh Christ!" from Maxwell, the duct cracks in half, pierces a flimsy ceiling of drywall, and sends the three of us tumbling through it. Maxwell lands first on the floor with a loud 'oof!'. By some random stroke of luck (or perhaps the lack of it) I fall onto him. Winner is unfortunate enough to crash instead onto the head of a startled soldier. The man is poorly trained, I decide. He is supposed to expect the unexpected, even if it is as sudden as the enemy crashing through the ceiling and onto his head.

I can see the exit. Already Maxwell and Winner are racing for it. I would be too but luck abandons me yet again. Despite his initial and unprofessional surprise, the soldier recovered fast. In the length of time it took the others to get halfway to the room's exit, the soldier had me in a headlock with the barrel of a gun jammed against my temple.

Winner is the first to notice I'm not with them. The fool actually stops running and turns around. Naturally, I'm a bit annoyed. Am I the _only_ real soldier around here?

"Keep going you moron or they'll get you too!" I manage to shout before the nameless soldier tightens his grip and digs the pistol harder into my temple.

"Come with me nice and easy, or you'll be sorry," the soldier mutters.

I don't reply. It may seem futile, but I'm certainly not going _anywhere_ nice and easy. I truly hope he doesn't think his pistol will scare me into compliance. I let myself go completely limp and he nearly sags from my weight.

Winner still looks torn but finally he moves. Honestly, he's too fucking sensitive for this line of work! I nearly breathe a sigh of relief until I see that Maxwell is gone. Considering he wasn't that far ahead of Winner, I'm naturally a bit concerned about what exactly he was planning to do.

There is a familiar yell and a very loud '_gonk!_' and suddenly I am dragged to the ground. Maxwell leans over me, looking sheepish. In his hand is a scrap pipe from a pile near mobile suits in various states of disrepair.

"Sorry," he muttered, hauling me free of the unconscious soldier's grip. "I thought he'd let go."

"Why didn't you get out of here?" I demand, trying as hard as I can to refrain from wincing.

"It's against my beliefs to leave a man behind," he replies.

"That's stupid."

"I know. I _had_ to be the one with morals, huh?"

I roll my eyes. "You and Winner talked of me jeopardizing the mission… that's exactly what _you're _doing," I hiss.

"Again, it's the morals thing. Thought I got rid of them a long time ago, you know? But I guess not. Or maybe I just have a thing about rescuing damsels in distress."

He laughs at the look of horror I give him.

"Damsel? _Damsel!?_ Oh, I am truly going to kill you now."

"Oh, I'm sure I could save you the trouble."

Maxwell and I look around for the source of the voice. It is gravelly, as though the speaker needs to clear his throat. Behind us stands Super Bastard and half a dozen men with guns trained on us.

Just fucking wonderful.


	13. Chapter 13

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 13:**

I find myself in the same fucking cell I had escaped from, only this time I have a cellmate- Maxwell, of course. One would think that, considering my martial skills, I'd be able to avoid this situation. Especially in such rapid succession. Well, apparently one is _wrong_.

"We really need to work on our escape success rate," Maxwell mutters.

"What was your first clue?" is my sarcastic retort.

"These." He holds up his hands, encased in cuffs identical to mine. "No… no, actually, when that guy threatened to kill me for you." He makes a face. "What is _with _people these days? The only one who hasn't threatened to kill me is Quatre… _Tch_… You guys are violent."

"You're a Gundam pilot and you say you're _not_?" I ask skeptically.

"Ouch. Touché and point."

He sits on the pseudo-bed, lightly banging the back of his head on the wall at regular intervals. He looks about as frustrated as I feel. Though I can't understand why. It was _his_ fault we're both stuck here. If he hadn't turned back to get me, only _I'd_ be recaptured.

"Trying to knock yourself out?" I mutter grumpily from my seat on the floor.

"I. Want. Out. Of. _Here!_" he says in time with the thumps.

"Hard though your head may be, I doubt it will knock this wall over."

"Hardy har har."

"Well, go ahead." I gesture to him with my cuffed hands. "Do it."

He blinks and tilts his head to the side. "Do… what?"

"Knock yourself out. Do us both a favor."

He rolls his eyes. "Uh, _yeah_… how about no. We're getting out of here tonight. And you're gimp." I make a noise of protest. How dare he! "You're gimp," he repeats, "and if I'm unconscious, there's no _way_ we're getting out of here. _Somebody_ has to carry out the princess."

"One of these days-" I thunder.

"You'll kill me. Yeah. As if I hadn't heard _that_ from everyone and their Aunt Betty."

"I mean it!"

"Mmhmm…" He looks amused, as though he knows a dirty little secret.

I sigh in frustration. Doesn't he know an honest threat when he hears one?

From the corner of my eye I see him get up. Oh great. He's going to start pacing. We haven't even been in this cell for an hour! So imagine my surprise when he crouches before me and seizes my broken ankle. I clench my teeth against the pain that shoots away from his fingertips. I nearly ask what the hell he thinks he's doing, but it becomes obvious as he carefully, yet forcibly, begins to manipulate his fingers over my ankle. He's trying to reset the bone.

"Tell me where it hurts."

I watch him as he works, that magnificent hair falling into his eyes. He sweeps it away with a vague brush of his hand. It all hurts. But will I tell him that? No… my fucking pride won't let me. No real surprise there. "It doesn't hurt."

"That's bull. You can't even walk on it. I may not be a doctor, but I'm pretty sure that constitutes as some serious pain." I hiss unexpectedly as his fingers dig into a particularly sensitive spot. "See?"

"Why do I get the feeling this is a bad idea?" I say through clenched teeth.

"You don't trust me?"

"Well, something sets me off about an amateur setting my broken bones."

He smirked and glanced back down at my leg. "Well, I certainly can't make it any worse. Kidding, kidding," he adds when I open my mouth to retort. "I do have _some_ experience. My patchy training consisted of a lot of seemingly useless information like this. Now keep still and stop talking so I can concentrate."

I clamp my teeth harder together and stupidly stare as he works, my eyes riveted on his hands that force the bone into place. After my leg makes an audible 'snap', Maxwell pulls back and looks satisfied. I hope that snap was a good sign.

"Don't worry," he says, as if he read my mind.

I don't reply.

With a discreet look at the camera monitoring us, he grabs the flimsy sheet off the pseudo-bed and, gripping the corner between his teeth, gives it a mighty tug. I blink in surprise as he manages to tear off a good length.

"Jaws of steel, huh?" he asks with a grin.

"You're insane."

"Hey, no fair calling names. You're insane too."

"Now who's calling names? And what the hell are you going to do with that?"

He offers a cheeky grin. "You're going to need to be capable of walking if we plan on getting out of here. So I'm going to bind your ankle to the best of my abilities. Come on, Wufei, I thought it was obvious."

I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry, it's only a temp job. I'll let Sally fix it up professionally when we get back."

"That woman won't touch me," I growl.

He laughs and I feel hot and cold all over. My mind is reeling. I've been trying to think of an effective escape plan. I really have. If only Maxwell wasn't sitting right in front of me!

Suddenly, it comes to me. A plan so shocking I'm stunned I even thought of it. Scratch that. I am _appalled _I thought of it. Unfortunately, I am also certain it will work.

After Maxwell finishes wrapping my foot, I get up and cross the room to the light switch.

"Hey! Wufei, you really shouldn't be walking on it just-"

I seriously can't believe what is about to come out of my mouth. "Shh. You'll kill the mood."

He looks like he doesn't believe it either. "The mood? Did you just say-?"

I flick the light switch and the room plunges into darkness. Silence follows. With effort, and mental insistence that this is 'just the plan, all apart of the plan', I limp over to him. I drop to my knees. '_The plantheplanthePLAN!_' I grab him by the ears (I was aiming for the hair or his shoulders or _something_ a little less awkward, but the world is against me yet again) and pull him in for a kiss. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a feeble mantra. Plan, plan, plan!

What plan? Who cares about some fucking plan? Maxwell is warm and delicious beneath me. And… _the plan!!_ I pull back before I forget again. Oh, who am I kidding? This wasn't just a plan. This was a fulfillment of my selfish, frustrated desires. Well, the beginning of it.

"Holy crap! What the hell was that about?" he hisses. "And… Christ! Man, you _reek!_"

I scowl. "Well, excuse me. I've kind of been fighting battles, hospitalized and made captive. Not exactly prime showering conditions. I'll wear cologne next time," I retort as quietly as possible. "Now I have a plan. And I… well, I need you to be the distraction." With this, I can feel my face growing hot.

"A distraction? What- uh… ohhh." There is a sudden, knowing tone in his voice.

I try not to think about what he will do.

Absently, I push my fingers into my hair (damn, it _is _disgusting…), pull out a lock-pick, and hand it to him wordlessly. Immediately, he starts working it into my cuffs.

"And where will you be?"

"Hopefully getting us out of here," I reply as they drop off my wrists. I take the pick and do the same to his. "You know what to do?"

"Yeah. Distraction. Not that hard with what I have in mind."

Again, I try to clear my thoughts. And it's so hard… no pun intended. I nod, though whether he can see me or not, I don't know. As quietly as possible, I climb off him and make for the door. My hands are searching the cool metal door for a weakness when I hear the most erotic sound behind me.

Oh. My. Fucking. Goodness.

My plan had been to distract our captors, either outside the door or behind the security camera lens, with the sound of something that might horrify most of the older soldiers at this base: two guys getting awfully close, if you catch my drift. Problem is… Maxwell is too fucking good at his distraction.

I lean against the door weakly, attempting to block out the nearly orgasmic sounds he makes. How the hell is he _doing _that? And would he sound like that if- no! I must keep a clear head!

Ignoring the fact that even my blood feels hot, I continue checking the door and to my surprise (and relief, as he's nearly screaming now) I find small, imperceptible switch in the upper left-hand corner of the door. I am finally able to focus on something other than… those… sounds.

"Come on!" I shout, hoping that the soldiers mistake the command. Then, cursing my lack in height, I flip the switch with the barest tips of my fingers. The door slides open and two guards tumble in, their expressions a strange mixture of being stunned, turned on, and appalled. I would laugh at their sheer idiocy if I thought I could.

Duo is already beside me and we overcome the fools before they can react appropriately of soldiers. With cold efficiency, we wrench their unconscious bodies free of their uniforms, don them, and shove the bodies into our cell. Then we slip away, hopefully unnoticed.

"What next?" he asks as we ease into an empty hallway. "They have likely figured out our little charade after we took out two of their guards."

"I don't know… you were awfully convincing." I grit my teeth as my face feels hot again. "A little too convincing, if you ask me. You could've toned it down just a notch."

For a moment, he looks puzzled. However, it doesn't last long and he grins broadly in sudden realization. "I never thought I'd say it, but Wufei, you are one perverted bastard." He winks. "I suppose I'm a talented actor. We could always see if I'm _really_ that good."

"Good lord Duo, have you no couth?" Though, in all honesty, every hormone in my body is screaming '_YES!_'

"Well, I-"

It takes a moment for me to realize he stopped. I glance over my shoulder. "You what?" I ask impatiently. He is staring at me. He looks stunned, for lack of a better word.

"What did you call me?"

I'm taken aback by this question. I open my mouth to ask just what the hell he's talking about before I stop to actually think about it. Did I just call him Duo? Holy shit… I did.


	14. Chapter 14

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 14:**

When did I start calling him Duo? For the life of me I can't remember. It must've been recent. But… good lord, it's nothing right?

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He's grinning like a maniac. No, no, no! It's not what he thinks! "Look, you-"

"Uh-uh. Can't take it back. You've already said it."

"But I-"

"What's done is done," he interrupts again. I grit my teeth and ignore the rudeness. He pauses. "Unless you are going to start calling me 'Maxwell' again just to spite me." He casts me a sidelong glance.

I mean to say, 'of course!' but it comes out in an aggravated sigh. I jerk around in frustration before finally admitting that no, I wouldn't call him Maxwell to spite him.

Duo hoots and pumps a fist in the air. "I _knew_ you'd do it one day. Oh yeah, oh yeah, uh-huh, oh-"

"Will you shut _up!?_ We're still in enemy territory right now!"

"Right," he agrees, and continues his little victory celebration in silence.

I roll my eyes. Idiot… Amazing idiot, but an idiot just the same. Or so I tell myself. "How, pray tell are we getting out of here? The air ducts again?"

He stops dancing and glances around thoughtfully. "I have a few routes in mind, though I thought we'd play it by ear for the moment. Maybe we could learn a bit on OZ's movements if we hung around."

"You have no idea how to get out, do you?"

"Just trust me, will you?" he says in a tone that distinctly meant to me 'of course I have no plan'. "Christ, you're so rude, you know."

I was intending to retort, but his last comment shut me up. Me? Rude? Of course not!… Or is it of course?

I'm just honest! Bitingly so, it seems.

Without complaint, I follow Duo further into the enemy compound. He walks purposefully, making me wonder whether it is an act or if he really knows where he is going. Either way, I put on my own act. If they don't see our faces, they might not even realize we're not apart of their troops.

We walk in silence for several minutes, and I slip into a slight daze, unaware even of the twinge of pain in my ankle. I blink suddenly and realize I've been hypnotized by the braid flicking across his back. Braid… Long braid… Long hair. How many soldiers have long hair? Shit! I grab his shoulders and whirl him round to face me.

He looks startled. "Whoa, Wufei… what's-"

"Your braid!" I hiss.

"What about it?"

"Hide it, you fool! If anything will give us away, it's _that_ thing!"

"What makes you say that?" he asks, clearly offended that I accused his hair of anything.

I take a deep breath, trying to wrangle in my patience. "How many people here have… oh, I don't know… three _feet_ of fucking hair?" He could be brilliant sometimes… and then ruin it all by pulling a stupid stunt like this.

He glances around. "Oh… right." Removing his hat, he grips the bill between his teeth and stuffs his hair into the neck of his jumpsuit. Then he slips the hat on backwards to hide the exposed bit. "Better?"

I nod. Though part of me wants it hanging down his back again just so I can stare at it.

No! Focus! We're trying to escape!

Damn my inner 'hair guy'! I had hoped he was dead.

We head down a short, vacant hall. At the end, there is a square of orange light. An open door. Duo pauses, holding out an arm, signaling for me to stop as well. I arch a brow, wondering what the hell is going on, but he shakes his head. He backs up without warning and treads directly onto my foot. Stupidly, foolishly, and without thinking, I swear loudly. Duo hisses. Cover blown.

A head pokes out of the room. "Hey! Who's there?!"

Dammit! No place to hide! "Good going, moron!" Though I think it's more about myself than him.

Duo hauls my arm around his shoulders. "My partner's got the shits, sir."

I choke and my eyes nearly bulge out of my head. What the hell!?

"Aren't you two supposed to be guarding the prisoners?"

"Like I said, he's about to explode. He can barely stand he has to go so bad. He ate too many prunes at dinner, I guess"

Inwardly, I vow to throttle him the next time I get him alone. I swear that's all I'll do…

The man folds his arms across his chest and steps further from the room. "This isn't the direction to the bathroom, pal."

"Right. We're… new here."

"What did you say your name was again?" The man sounds suspicious. And he had every right to be. Duo was just making things go from bad to worse!

He chuckles lightly. "I didn't. And you ask too many questions."

Before the man could reply, with a swiftness of the trained professional that he is, Duo makes quick work of rendering him unconscious.

"You're mad, you know that?" I mutter, casting a glance from the unconscious man to him. I often forget that he is a Gundam pilot.

"That's what makes me so irresistible, right?"

"Shut up," I grumble, pulling the bill of my cap further over my warm face. "And what was that bullshit about the _prunes!?_"

"Sorry! It was the best I could come up with! And I didn't hear _you_ helping!" Okay, he has a point. I guess… I have no right to make my fucking complaints. "Now come on. If the blueprints I found before this fiasco were right, that's the entrance to the garbage chute."

"You know that no good will come of this," I point out as he drags me over the body and into the room.

"So cynical. That's going to have to change. Besides, what sort of Gundam pilots would we be if 99.75 of the time we didn't scrape by on sheer luck alone?" He smirks.

"Well, if you take a look at our luck as of late, it means that there will be no way out of that garbage chute and we'll be compacted with the rest of the slop."

"Again with the cynicism, Wufei? Ah, I was right." He pries open a steel door. A horrible stench curls damply in my nose. "Poor sap was just on garbage duty. He's going to get it for sleeping on the job." He grins viciously. "Anyway, Wufei… you just have to have faith."

"I don't believe in your god."

He clambers feet first into the chute and glances back at me with humor in his eyes, clinging to the edge of the doorway. "Neither do I. I meant in your abilities." He grins, releases the doorway, and disappears with a whoop down the chute.

Grimacing and, with a lot more effort, I clamber in after him. The chute is slimy and gritty and smells like old cheese but I've been through worse. Thankfully, the slide is a short one. I arc through the air and land in a broken heap on top of Duo. I would think this was all rather convenient if I could get my mind around the pain shooting through my body. He says something but I'm too focused on dispersing the pain to pay attention. It's not like he has anything important to say. We're stuck in a fucking garbage heap. Only when he dumps me into the slop does my head clear enough- out of sheer surprise- to pay attention to what he's saying.

"Finally. And they call _me_ spacey," he cracks. I flush and don't comment. "As I was saying there's an exit on that wall. Probably where a truck or something comes to empty this place out."

"It's probably locked on the other side," I hiss, wading over to him.

He shrugs. "It can't hurt to check." He reaches over and pushes the door. As I expected, it doesn't budge. He looks surprised. "You're right."

I nearly reply when there is a loud creak and the sound of thunder rolling overhead. We look up at another chute to see a mountain of slop rushing into the pit below. The pit we happen to be in.

"Oh _shit_!" I yell before the force of falling garbage literally attempts to drown me. All my breath is compressed out of me and I inhale foul tasting water as I'm shoved beneath the slop. It probably doesn't last more than thirty seconds, but it feels like an eternity as I flounder blindly for the surface, gagging on foul flavors only to inhale more.

My feet connect with the bottom of the pit and, with more force than necessary, I push off, breaking the surface with a sputtering gasp. The air smells even more rancid, but it's better than the water. With a snort, I wipe slime from my eyes and glance around. Moments later Duo's head breaks the surface and he inhales loudly, coughing up water that _he_ had inhaled. He looks like a drowned rat.

Wiping bits of soggy debris off his face, he turns and gives me a wry grin. "I hope you appreciate all this. It's probably going to take weeks for me to get this slime out of my hair."

"I appreciate the fact that I don't want you to rescue me ever again," I mutter.

"Hey, Heero and Trowa thought we ought to just leave you."

"You probably should have. Then you wouldn't be stuck in this situation."

"I suppose. I'm just a sucker for damsels in distress."

"What is up with the damsel thing?! You have more hair than I do! If anyone's a damsel, it's you!"

He laughs heartily. "Maybe." With a sudden frown, he reaches back down into the slop. A few seconds later, he pulls up a thermal knife handle. I recognize it as Duo's because the coloration matched the Deathscythe.

"You had that the entire time and you didn't _tell_ me!?"

He shrugs, shaking water from it. "At first I forgot. By the time I remembered, I figured the water probably shorted it out."

"But you couldn't have been certain!" I yelp. My god, common sense was something he must have lacked!

"Which is why I'm trying it out now." He flicks the switch. After an impressive display of sparks, the blade died. "Heh, what'd I tell you?" He wades over to the door and runs his fingers along the thin crack between the door and the wall.

I watch him carefully work for several minutes. His soaked shirt clings to the planes of his back, accentuating just how thin he is. It isn't an aristocratic thin, like Winner, or the thinness of a martial artist. It isn't underfed thin or thin like a weakling- I can see the lines of appropriately built muscle. It is the thin of a difficult life, lived down to one's bones. I'm trying not to stare but… come on. It's like he's asking for it!

Dammit!

"You coming or not?"

I really am spacey. I'd been too busy foolishly daydreaming to realize that he is now standing outside the garbage pit. Winner is next to him, grinning slightly. With a grunt, I slosh after him.

"How did you find us?" I ask Winner. At his feet is the lock to the door, snapped in half.

"Common sense. Well, common Duo sense." He smiles and waves around a small, thumb-size device.

Duo grabs the end of his braid and smirks. "I thought it would've shorted out too."

"You had him tracking you?" I ask. Yes… I'm impressed. I'll admit it, dammit!

"Safeguard. Both of us had one on us."

Outside, sirens are screaming and spotlights are roving the grounds in search of Duo and me. Over the sirens, I hear the sound of mobile suits taking off and people screaming orders at one another.

"They're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Duo asks as we slip into the shadows.

"I'm reminded of a poorly made action movie," I reply.

"Well, it's not over yet."

I still had to reclaim my Gundam.

When will this all end!?


	15. Chapter 15

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Sorry that this chapter is so late! But, I hope that the extra length (by approx. two pages, I think) and the content make up for it. This chapter is oddly paced and it might be a bit confusing. There's a reason for my madness, good or bad. So yes…I know it's probably… weird, for lack of a better word._

_Also… this might sound stupid, but does anyone know of any really good GW reference sites? I'm re-watching the series and picking more things out on my own, but I'd like to know where people get some of the information they have. Any help would be appreciated!_

_And as always, enjoy!_

**Chapter 15:**

As Duo and I follow Winner through the shadows of the base, I become acutely aware of the fact that our shoes (meaning Duo's and mine) are making a hideous squishing noise. A lot good creeping around in the dark is doing us when the damned sound of soaked shoes is going to give us away!

I point this out to Winner and make to remove my shoes when he stops me.

"The gravel is sharp." He gestures to the rocks beneath our feet. "We may be walking a while. That rock will cut your feet to pieces. The sirens are loud enough to mask the squishing enough, but how are you going to explain away blood?"

"Uh… battle?" I point out, grouchily. Unfortunately, I know he's right.

"How many of their soldiers do you think have your DNA? And bloody footprints, no less? It's very unlikely that the soldiers here will be bleeding from their feet."

"Okay, you've made your point. The damned shoes will stay on until you pry them off my cold, dead feet."

He sighs, sounding agitated with me. Yeah, well… well… Dammit! I can't think up a good mental argument. "Let's just get out of here, okay? You can be a bear when we get home."

"Hey, none of this kinky costume games stuff in my presence."

We both sigh loudly. "Duo!"

Winner stops and looks at me. After a brief moment of surprise, he grins. "Duo, eh?"

"Yeah, isn't it enough to make your heart stop?" Duo asks, scooting up next to him. "This isn't the first time he's said it, but it _still_ freaks me out. I almost wonder if this is really our dear Wufei. Perhaps they've done something to him since he'd been captured."

I feel my face burn. Not the _both_ of them! "That's nice… Now can we go?" I hiss.

"I think he's blushing," Winner murmurs. I can actually _hear _a grin in his voice.

"He pretends he's tough but he's just a softie."

What the hell? They're acting as though I'm not there! I realize this may be the point but… still, I don't have to put up with it!

"I'm leaving you bastards behind. I hope you both get stomped."

"Harsh words, Wuffers."

I glare at Duo through the darkness. "I _told_ you I'd kill you if you called me that!"

"No you won't."

I grit my teeth as Duo and Winner snicker.

"Er… ahem… sorry, Wuff- er, I mean Wufei," Winner says, first to regain his composure. "Sorry, sorry. Okay… really… we do need to get out of here before we're found out. Again. If I remember correctly… that way will lead us to the hangar." He jerks his head over his shoulder.

Maxwell makes a noise of confirmation. It sounds like he chokes on a snort. I think he's still trying to refrain from laughing out loud. I want to hit him but Winner is leaving us behind. Silently, save for the crunch of gravel beneath our feet, we make our way across the grounds, taking extra care to remain out of sight of the passing foot soldiers and mobile suits.

There is a slight crispness in the air that leaves me freezing in my extra-damp apparel. I pull the fabric away from my skin, but it's a futile attempt. It slaps wetly back into place.

"Need any help?" Duo asks, a lot closer than I expected.

"Er… no." Though I want to say yes… I'll put up with my clammy clothing for now. Christ, why does he have to unknowingly do these things to me at the most inconvenient times?

At Winner's gesture, we stop near the hangar wall. The door is open, allowing mobile suits and their pilots in and out. Nataku is in the middle of it all, attached to all sorts of diagnostic wires. She looks like a medical nightmare. I swallow hard, feeling something rise in the back of my throat. That's _my_ Gundam.

Winner holds out a hand to silence anything I could say. "You and Duo are going to have to sneak in there to get your Gundam. Sandrock is off a ways, so I'll be retrieving her. I've set some detonators at the base's perimeter to distract them away from the hangar. It'll be between ten and fifteen minutes before I get outside the gate and set them off, so if you could wait until that time to get to your Gundam, that would be best. There is still a chance they'll notice you trying to escape. If they're smart, they'll leave people behind, so I expect a fight. I'll try to get here as quick as I can."

"And what are we going to do about him?" I jerk my thumb at Duo. "He can't fit in Nataku's cockpit with me."

"I can if I sit on your lap."

Again, I imagine my face is scarlet. Does he even pay attention what he says? Apparently not. His face looks innocent enough. Ha! Innocent, my ass! Wordlessly, I shake my head. I don't trust my voice.

Winner rolls his eyes but looks amused. Fine for him! It must be nice not to be so insanely obsessed with one Duo Maxwell! "He can ride on your Gundam- somewhere safe for an exposed body. Someplace out of the way. Or he can go out on foot. I'm pretty sure it won't be too hard for him to acquire a gun. Not in the chaos I plan on causing. Head out the north gate for about a mile. Deathscythe is where you left her, not far from my Sandrock," he adds to Duo.

"Then why doesn't he go with you?"

"How much farther do you think you can walk on that leg?" Duo asks. I admit he has a point. "Come on Wufei, you're usually on top of things." Both he and Winner exchange a glance and then stare at me as if I have a second head growing from my neck.

"I am on top of things," I grumble. I _am_ on top of things. Even though my head feels as though it's wrapped in cotton. Even though I'd rather just be in my room, nice and _warm_ under the sheets. I'm a soldier. The mission comes before personal comfort.

Winner finally nods and backs away into the shadows. "I'll return as quickly as I can. Be careful."

"You too, man," Duo says, giving him a wave. Turning then to me, he nudges me forward. "Come on, we have a Gundam to rescue."

Trying to make myself as small as possible, I slip into the hangar with Duo following close behind. The lighting is intense, but so are the shadows, giving us fairly decent cover, should no one think to look. In silence, we sneak into the shadow of an incomplete mobile suit. Duo peers around the leg.

"Looks like she's guarded pretty heavily."

"No shit."

He reaches back and shoves my shoulder in response. "We'll wait here until the blast goes off." He sits down at the base of the mass-produced mobile suit's foot, looking quite at ease despite the entire damned base is looking for us. He even has the nerve to fold his hands behind his head. Is this just some vacation to him?

"Why don't you sit? We'll be waiting until Quatre gives us the signal."

"I don't think I'll be able to stand again if I sit down," I reply gruffly, leaning next to him. I prop my injured foot on the mobile suit and feel a rush of instant relief. It's then I realize just how much _pain_ I've been ignoring. That I still have to ignore if I want to come out of this alive.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

I glance down at Duo. Even in the dark shadow, I can tell that the look he's giving me isn't the usual patented 'Maxwell Smirk'. Do I detect concern on that face? My stomach turns and I nod, looking away. "I'm just ready to get out of here."

He sighs. "Me too. I'm freezing. And my hair is a disaster."

I snort. "Is your hair all you can think of?"

"No. I was just trying to lighten the atmosphere." He scoffs. "Honestly, you all seem to think I'm this huge screw up who can't take anything seriously. So what if I like to laugh once in a while? So what if I'm a bit vain when it comes to my hair? So _what! _So what if I want those around me to _enjoy_ their lives, even if we _are_ soldiers? I may be a Gundam pilot, but if I can't even let myself go every once in a while, I'd go mad from the stress!"

Though he's talking to me, I think that the rant is not directed fully at me. I don't want to think about to whom he's probably 'talking'. Still, I know I _am_ part of his problem. I'm as guilty as the rest. "Sorry," I mutter awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, you should be."

"Listen you, I-"

The first blast rocks the hangar- Winner's signal. Shouts fill the hangar. Duo is on his feet before the sound even fades away. The two of us peer around the unfinished mobile suit. The soldiers within the hangar are scurrying around like roaches whose hive was disturbed. I grimace at the thought. But it's accurate. Soldiers are racing around on foot while their superiors are shouting half-ignored orders as they run after them. It is complete chaos.

"Wise man, Quatre," Duo comments in satisfaction, jerking his head in Nataku's direction. He presses himself against the wall and sneaks across the hangar. I follow, for once suddenly unable to think of anything but going home, going to sleep. I am just so _tired_…

Amazingly, we go unnoticed in the chaos. Our quest is helped when another explosion rattles the hangar.

"Just how many do you think he set?" I ask, actually _struggling_ to keep up with Duo. I can't understand what's happening. What the fuck is going on with me! This is easy. This is no problem. So why the hell is it so fucking difficult?

Duo shrugs. "Probably more than technically necessary. But it's always good to be prepared." He glances back, grinning. I don't know what he sees, but that manic grin turns into a frown and he grabs my arm, jerking it around his shoulders.

"If I have to carry you, so help me God I'm going to kill you in your sleep," he mutters.

"I was fine," I protest, though I find myself thinking 'Just kill me now and get this madness over with!'

No one seems to be paying attention to what's going on around them, because we make it to Nataku without a single soldier noticing us. I grab Nataku's chord, wrapping my hand around it tightly to keep steady.

"You think you're up to navigating this beast out of here?" Duo asks. "I've never operated Nataku myself and we don't have the time for me to get acquainted with her controls."

I exhale loudly. "Stop this fucking doting over me. I can do it if I say I can do it. If anything, Nataku will lead the way."

He arches a brow but doesn't respond to that. Color me surprised.

"Well, good luck then."

"Where are you going?" I demand.

He grins wolfishly. "I'm going to apprehend me a gun."

I should've known he wouldn't be one to let me just take him out of here. He had to kick up hell.

"Well… be careful," I say stiffly. It's awkward. But he grins again, a little less wolfishly this time. Is that shyness I see? That's impossible. Is he surprised that I could care enough to say that? I can't say I wouldn't expect it.

"You too."

We stand there self-consciously for a moment. Well, I am self-conscious. For all I know, he could be thinking about the weather. Or his favorite flavor of ice cream. I suppose this would be one of those 'right times' for a kiss or a fucking exchange of sweet sentiments, but I'm not the sweet sentiment sort and the two of us are filthy, covered in slime from the garbage heap. I obsess just enough about personal hygiene to know that there is no way I want to kiss slime, even if it is… _him_.

The moment passes and we end up merely nodding stupidly at one another. I am then securely closed up inside Nataku's cockpit and I can breathe again. So I do. And I gag on what I smell. This isn't the smell of Nataku's cockpit. It's the smell of a foreign body odor, mechanic's grease, and dirt. Those bastards actually poked around inside _my_ Gundam! It didn't surprise me. What else could I expect? They just apprehended the dreaded machine of their mysterious enemy. Who _wouldn't_ poke around inside, trying to figure out the science behind it so they could recreate their own? I would be stupid _not_ to expect it. What I didn't expect is the rage sweeping through my veins. It is uncontrollable, this feeling. I want to rend each and every one of these bastards to the atomic level!

With an angry shout, I activate Nataku and, borrowing her strength, tear through the diagnostic wires attached to her. Before me, soldiers freeze, staring up at Nataku with expressions of sheer terror. That is right. Be afraid of us, you weaklings! I reach back and haul Nataku's beam glaive from the recharge pack and smirk. Those fools! Leaving Nataku armed like this, they just _ask_ for justice to be dealt. Glaive in hand, sparking dangerously, Nataku marches forward. Some soldiers scurry away. Others fire their guns, as if that would stop me. Bullets ricochet off Gundanium armor, sending more soldiers diving for cover.

"Get out of my way! You're too weak to fight me, you fools!" I shout, swiping the glaive at the idiots who still insist on shooting at me. The staff catches two in the gut and I send them flying across the hangar, cracking against the wall with what I imagine is a sickening sound.

Marching forward, I glance around for Duo. It takes a moment before I spot him firing from the shadows. He shoots to kill and his marksmanship is near perfect. We are soldiers, after all.

I smash a trio of soldiers out of my path and head out the hangar doors to the battle beyond. Winner created the chaos he promised. Numerous small fires eat away at surrounding buildings and the gates. Bodies and parts of mobile suits are scattered across the grounds, torn apart by one of the previous detonations. In the distance, I see the gleam of Winner approaching like a demon in his Gundam. Missiles soar overhead in his direction.

Fools. With ease, Winner smashes them away.

"Any problems getting out?" he asks moments later in a small visual feed appearing in the corner of Nataku's screen.

I shake my head.

"And Duo?"

"You know him. Thought he'd like to try his hand at taking a few of them out on foot." I take a hit from an enemy mobile suit and the visual connection is broken. The voice still works, however, when I hear Winner ask if I'm okay.

"Yeah," I mutter, swinging around to plunge the thermal blade of my beam glaive straight into the mobile suit's gut. The ensuing explosion isn't as satisfying as it could've been.

"Keep an eye out for Duo. I have the hangar rigged for explosion too. I don't want to set it off until I know he'll be out of the way."

I grimace at the thought of him being caught in the explosion. That would be my luck. I finally get my way (well, sort of) after what felt like an eternity of madness, and then he dies. That would be the ultimate proof that Justice was out to screw me.

"Wufei?"

"Yeah, I'll let you know if I see him."

Winner is silent then, so I assume he's finished talking. That is until he says in a quiet sort of way, "I was right, wasn't I?"

I scowl as we both take out a pair of mobile suits that foolishly charged us. The carnage rains down around us and I turn away from the Sandrock. "Must we discuss this now? We're in the middle of a battle." I don't want to admit to him that he was right. I don't know why. It's not like he'd make a fuss about it.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you…" he replies.

I don't have time to ask why because Duo emerges from the hangar then, grinning like a maniac, and we take up the role of getting him out of the base alive. In the end, I have to seize him by the waist and carry him out, because there was no way in hell he could keep up with the stride of a Gundam.

We are barely five steps away when Winner sets off the last of his explosions. It's an intense spectacle of flames, smoke, and debris and I find myself admiring his thoroughness. An OZ search party would be hard pressed to find survivors.

Winner leads the way through a thick forest. Exhaustion is settling in. I can feel it all the way through my teeth, which are chattering incessantly. It makes my head throb. I clench my jaw to stop it. It's almost over. I can make it.

A few minutes later, we come upon the Deathscythe.

My concentration is wavering. I am unable to keep my eyes focused and Nataku's cockpit is starting to feel close. I swallow hard and squint. Just a bit longer…

Kneeling, I drop Duo to the ground and I watch him trot over to his Gundam, inspecting it for any foul play. He gives Winner and I thumbs up and climbs inside the cockpit.

"All right," Winner says as Deathsythe rights itself. "Let's go home."

Finally.

I toggle Nataku's controls. Time to go home. The thought had never been so enticing as it is now. The effort to stand is too much and I collapse over the controls, shaking. No. I can't be this way. Not me. Not now. I try to push myself upright. Too heavy. Like lead. All I can feel is the vibration of Nataku falling…


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Here it is! Nice and long and far earlier than I expected! Also, just a short update on some changes I've made throughout the story. One of my readers let me know how I sort of butchered the integrity of one Quatre Winner (unknowingly, I promise, and which I am very sorry for!), so I fixed what I could… and the rest I blame on Wufei –grin- Part of it is due to his opinion of our lovely flaxen haired pilot, whom yes, despite all appearances, I love. And that's all! Enjoy the chapter!_

**Chapter 16:**

Hot. Christ, it's hot. Faces swim before my eyes, fading in, fading out, never sharp. Foreign.

"…Shock… Fever… Here…"

One of the faces lifts my arm. I think it's my arm. It feels like my arm. There is a prick. A sting. I hate the sting. I groan, trying to glare at the villain. What are you doing? No, no, go away.

"No. This is going to help, Wufei. I promise." Clear now. Voices, not faces. Never faces.

But I don't remember speaking. The sting. Your fault! Yours! Don't talk. Talk of promises… Promises break. Lies. All lies. This is not help. Torture. Madness. No, I won't tell you!

Another face swims into view. I fight. I fight to escape. Get away. Run. Far. Arms grab me. Wrap around me. Pin me down. Squeeze the life out of me. Like iron bars. Clamping my lungs. I gasp. I can't breathe. I won't tell. I won't tell.

"You don't have to tell us anything."

This voice is close against me, a breath in my ear. Familiar. I shudder. Monsters. Demons. I don't know you. I don't know you! No, no, no! Bastard! Liar! It's just pretend. _LIARS!_

You can't make me tell so kill me now!

"Shh," the first voice hisses. The voice that pricked me.

No, I won't!

Something cold drops on my forehead. Wet. The cold burns. I shudder. I grope for the cold. Fling it aside. I try. But hands grab mine. They take the cold and put it back on my skin. I groan. This is torture. I'm so hot. I push myself up. My arms quake. Ha! I dive. I escape.

Arms clamp around me. Pull me back. Crush me.

"Wufei, calm down! You're okay. You're safe. You just have a fever. You're just sick." The second voice.

Sick? Sick? You're sick! I push, I scratch, I fight. The arms are too strong. No! You can't. Air. Spots. I can't breathe. Can't breathe. Let go! My elbow rams into skin. A hand grabs my arm and forces it down to my side.

"_Christ_, Wufei!" the voice wheezes. The arms release me but another pair pins me down.

"You can fight back when you're better," says the first voice.

No! I fight again. Futile.

"Are you sure he's okay, Sally?"

_Liar!_

"Mm. The shot I gave him should start affecting him any moment now."

Let go… Let _go_! What did you do… to… me…

---

It's dark, except for the sliver of moonlight that filters in through my window. I am strangely relieved when I realize I'm in _my_ room. My hand drifts to my head, which aches something awful, to my face. And there is a crisp, dry washcloth folded neatly on my forehead. My skin feels tight and uncomfortable and hot to the touch. With a frown, I toss the cloth aside and my head flops weakly back onto my pillow.

I feel as though I've been run over by a truck. And it's so… fucking… hot. I kick off blankets that weigh a ton. It helps, though not much. I try to move to a cooler spot on my bed but it's then I realize that one of my arms is not following. Looking over my shoulder, I see the reason.

Maxwell, no Duo… Duo is sitting in a chair next to my bed with my hand laced between both of his. His forehead rests heavily on our fingers. I think he's asleep.

I might blush. I don't know. I'm too hot to be certain. But, with a sigh, I settle back into place. It's so hot. But I suppose I can deal with the discomfort for a little while.

---

Curled up in a ball, I shiver. Shiver and shiver and shiver so hard my teeth chatter. So hot, yet so cold. I can't stop shivering. And I can't reach for the blanket. I'll fall apart.

A cool hand on my skin.

"The fever is spiking again. Dammit. You boys don't do anything halfway. Duo, draw a tepid bath, quickly."

Hands pull. I curl tighter.

"Wufei, we have to get you out of those sweaty things and cool you down."

Over my dead body.

"Tub's filling… Oy, you don't have to undress him. He'll cool off either way."

"Not as well… or as quickly… And I hate the idea of him in wet clothing right now… But," the voice finally stops pulling, "if he's going to continue to fight me…"

No! You won't take me! Fight! I'll fight!

Destruct…

Destruct…

Where can I destruct!

Hands seize me. Pin my arms to my sides. "Shh. Stop. It's okay. You're safe. I promise you, you're safe."

No… no… no, you fucking _lie!_

"Ah-ah. I may run and hide but I… what?"

Never lie…

"Right. My motto, remember? I promise you, you're safe." The voice is firm. "Do you trust me?"

No… Yes… Maybe…

Arms surround me, grip me tightly. Shiver. Shiver. It doesn't stop. It can't stop. I'm going to break.

"It's like a damned earthquake is going on in there."

I'm lifted. I'm moved. I'm going to drop! I'll fall for miles and miles… I shout the moment my skin touches the water. So cold it burns. I am soaked. Drowned. Freezing. The shivering gets worse. Torture. This is torture. Lies. They lied! Lied to me. I curl up tight, trying to stop.

Water splashes over my head.

Gasp.

So…

Cold…

A hand takes mine. I grip it tightly. No reason. Another hand pulls my other arm from the cold.

"I'm sorry about this… I know you hate it, but I need to do this now. I have another appointment… Keep still Wufei."

My arm is dried, gripped tightly. It still shakes. What are you doing? There is a prick. A sting. Not again. Anything but that.

"Keep him in the water until his temperature drops more. It's too high right now. And don't let him sleep in wet clothes or I'll skin you alive. I'll be back in the evening. The shot should help, but keep watch on his temperature. Call me _immediately_ if it goes up."

Regularly, I am doused with the water. I can hardly breathe it's so cold. Shiver like the devil. But the hand never lets go of mine. Or I grip it so tightly that it can't.

It's okay. I'm safe. The voice reassures me. Over and over. Gripping my hand. I'm tempted to believe it.

---

It's dark again. I still feel terrible and my head pounds explosively, but the room doesn't feel so close anymore. I feel hot, but not as hot. I haven't even opened my eyes yet when someone says: "You're awake."

I start and glance in the voice's direction. Winner is sitting in Duo's seat, one leg propped over the other, looking as at ease as can be.

"How did you know?" I wince. My voice is completely shot.

He taps his chest over his heart. "For some reason you're a lot less subtle waking up after being sick and intentionally knocked out than simply… bludgeoned. You'll have to explain that to me someday."

I shrug half-heartedly. "The hell if I know."

Winner smiles. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Painfully… alive." My joints twinge to reaffirm this comment.

"At least you _are_ alive."

"Mm…" With the way I'm feeling right now, I'm not sure whether I agree with that or not. "What happened?"

He gets to his feet and pours a glass of water from a pitcher on the night table, then hands it to me. I push myself up to a sitting position- it takes more effort than it ought to- and take the glass. I'm not sure if I'm capable of drinking it, but the gesture is nice enough.

"Well," he finally begins, "you collapsed just outside the OZ base… Duo and I dragged you and your Gundam back home- not an easy thing to do, let me tell you- and we called Sally over to have a look at you. Seems like you were hit with a load of problems all at once. Shock from your many injuries, stress, lack of sleep, raging fever… delirium as a result of said raging fever."

I groan, reclining my head against the wall. "I can't remember."

"It's probably better if you don't. I think you were under the impression that Sally and Duo were the enemy. It wasn't pretty."

It takes me a moment before I have the energy to croak the next question. "Where's… Where is he?"

Winner doesn't even bother to ask about whom I am talking. "Reconnaissance mission. It came in last night."

Mission, hmm? I'm not sure what to make of this news. "And how long was I out?"

"A few days, off and on I think. Duo and Sally were the ones here, mostly." Winner eyes me critically, making me squirm in discomfort. I hate that stare. It's penetrating. Like he's found your soul hidden deep inside and is reading it like a book. Finally, he speaks again. "He was really worried about you."

"Me?" I blink and shake my head with a snort. I doubt he even knows what he's talking about. "No. Not me."

"He was."

"I'm saying no he wasn't."

He gave me another long, penetrating look. "Is it really so hard to believe?" He sounds skeptical. But more sad. Why the hell is he sad?

Silly Winner. You don't know the circumstances. And I tell him this much. He looks at me as though I've grown a second head. What the hell is with these looks anyway?

"What am I missing, Wufei? All I'm seeing is a human being who is clearly unable to accept the fact that someone could _possibly _care about his well being."

He strikes a nerve. He can't be right. He may have a brilliant mind in that head of his, but he doesn't know _me_. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Are you just going to run away then?"

Of all the fucking nerve! "Excuse me? Ex_cuse _me? Run away? Just because I don't tell you something that is _none of your god damned business_ does not mean I'm running away!"

His eyes narrow slightly, the only sign he gives that he's agitated. And he waits for me to calm down, I suppose. So. Fucking. Patiently. I want to strangle him!

"I don't know what your opinion about this is, but I consider you my friend, Wufei. If I seem like I'm nagging, I'm sorry. It's just…" He pauses, sighs tremendously, and then plows on. "You guys are just… driving me mad!" He clutches his chest and, feeling a bit mean, I wonder if he's having a heart attack. "Do you know what it's like to feel every … every _single _nuance of intensity around you and remain unable to control it?"

"No." Again, I'm feeling mean. However unwittingly, he's made me remember that I'm just there to help Duo forget his own crush. I'd forgotten. Stupid. What a fool I am.

Winner sighs and I feel a twinge of remorse. "Well of course you don't. It's… It's like this. It makes me feel like I'm not even my own person anymore, you see. All these things I'm stuck feeling, and they're not even _mine_ to begin with. And lately with you and Duo around, I've been constantly bombarded with your… internal noise! It's chaos. I feel like I have a multiple personality disorder, except they walk and talk beside me! I'm tired of it. It's physically exhausting, Wufei. Maybe I'm being selfish but… I don't _want_ to keep feeling whatever hurricane you two are going through. The two of you are great people and amazing soldiers… And I care about you both. I just want to help. Myself, yes, but the two of you as well…"

I don't say anything for a moment. I don't know what _to _say. He certainly knows how to make a man feel guilty. Even though I know he's not trying.

Suddenly he shakes his head. "No, no. Sorry. You're right. It's not my business. I'm just… No." He looks as though he's being firm with him_self_. "No. Forgive me."

_Now_ he realizes his invasiveness? I sigh. But damn him. Have I ever said it's impossible to deny his requests? Because it is. Right now, I _really_ hate him for it. "I don't think you _can_ help," I finally mutter, setting the glass of untouched water back on the night table. "It's not really what you think it is."

"But…" he begins. I pause. His face scrunches up then and he makes a noise in the back of his throat. "I get it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Go on. If you want, I mean."

I pull my knees to my chest, suddenly very discomfited with the way things are going. I curse my weakness. There is no reason for this. It's just Winner, for fuck's sake! He's the inevitable nice guy. There is nothing wrong with what he knows, right? "There isn't anything really… _there_. Nothing to help with because…there is nothing." I shrug, trying to remain nonchalant. I doubt Winner falls for it. Hell, I don't. I rest my head in my hands. The pounding just seems to be increasing.

There is a moment of silence before Winner speaks. "Heero rejected Duo and _you_ are completely mad for Duo so… making you the perfect one to take Heero's place, so to speak… Am I right?"

I blink in surprise. Now it's my turn to stare at _him_. "What the fuck? Are you a mind reader now?"

"No. But I can do the math. Not to mention _you_ were completely obvious from the beginning about your feelings."

"I was not!" I protest.

He smiles slightly and I want to hit him. I was obvious? _Duo_ was obvious! About Yuy! Remember?

"Maybe not to the others." And on that cryptic note… he smiles serenely.

I harrumph loudly. Another silence passes between us and then I can't stand it anymore. "When's he coming back?" I find myself asking. I have dignity enough to keep my tone neutral and uncaring. I hope.

Winner grins broadly. Damn you! "It should be sometime within the next couple of hours. Depending on how successful he is."

My door slides open.

"Or now. Duo, you were quieter than usual."

And there he stands, sporting several scrapes, a long, drying cut down his forearm, and slightly disheveled hair. "Compassion for the sick ones. How is- oh! You're awake." He looks at Winner. "He sane?"

"Yes, thank you," I interrupt crisply. Honestly! 'Am I sane?'

"Can't blame a guy for asking." He crosses the room and points to a large, bluish bruise on his neck.

I arch a brow. "What'd they do? Strangle you?"

"No! That's from _you_, you moron. You thought I was… oh, I don't know, out to get you or something. And you elbowed me good. You know, you have some freaky pointy elbows, man. So this is your payback." He swats my shoulder but it's far gentler than it should've been. I'm not sure what to think of it. I'm becoming unsure of a lot these days. I don't like it!

"In the neck?" I wince. After an awkward pause, I grumble an apology.

He shrugs and sits in the chair Winner vacated… when did he leave? That guy's sneaking capabilities are a bit frightening… "So, how are you feeling?"

"Completely agonized. Which I think means I'm alive."

"Better than being dead."

"Winner basically said the same."

"The two of us are caring individuals, what can I say?"

I glance over at him, study him a bit obsessively in a short amount of time, and I am overcome with a partial desire to pounce. Yes…. Pounce. I don't fucking pounce. I never pounce. And now… But the desire is partial because the other part of me just wants to go back to sleep. Either way, I hope to whatever entity there is above that Winner didn't 'feel' that.

"What happened to you?" I ask after clearing my throat awkwardly. I gesture to his injuries.

Duo's gaze fixes on his cut arm and he shrugs, grinning wildly. "A couple guards down at the base I was visiting thought they had captured me. I had to… convince them otherwise. Naturally, my _charm_ won them over, but they _did_ balk at first."

I roll my eyes slightly and fight back a yawn.

"Looks like little Wuffers still needs to rest." His grin is teasing.

I make a face at him. "I'm seriously going to kill you one of these days. I'll poison your coffee or suffocate you in your sleep… sometime when you least expect it."

"Well, now that you told me, I'll be expecting it. So I think you just blew your plan." He stands and pats imaginary dust from his clothing. "Anyway, I've got to get cleaned up and _you_ need to get better. A nap will probably do the both of us some good, so I'll see you later." He turns to leave.

No… wait…

I reach out and seize the flicking end of that maddening braid of his. I don't know why. My body has a fucking mind of it's own, apparently. He flails backwards, swearing more effectively than I ever could, and plops next to me. Without a second thought, my hands bury into his hair, soft, slightly tangled, and our mouths crash together. Just a taste… That drug, that warm, spicy taste this time mingled with a slight tang of sweat from the mission. I don't mind. Too much. The rest is more than enough. It's useless to try. It's Duo. Useless.

Too soon, he pulls back. Damn you! I scowl, but he pushes me down resolutely. "Seriously… go to sleep, Wufei," he says well… seriously.

"Yes ma'am," I mutter, disgruntled. One guess why. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

With a smirk, he stands again. Smartly, he grabs the end of his braid so I can't assault him again. Unfortunate, for me. Then he does something unexpected. Leaning over, I barely feel his mouth brush my forehead. And like some fucking schoolgirl, my face grows incredibly hot.

I hear him chuckle slightly as he heads for my door. "Don't let the bed bugs bite, _Wuffers_," he taunts, slipping out of the room.

Seriously, I'm going to kill him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Well, I completed this chapter a lot sooner than expected! So here it is! We'll see how fast it takes me to complete Chapter 18… Maybe before my dance competition this Sunday? I'm keeping my fingers crossed._

**Chapter 17:**

I must have been worse off than I first imagined, because I actually spent the past couple of days curled up in bed, content to just stay there. I even put up with Dr. Sally Po's devices of medical torture. Granted, I didn't put up with it quietly…

Now a third day of being bedridden is upon me. And, feeling much better now, I am bored out of my fucking mind. If Duo were here… well, my thoughts alone would keep me suitably entertained. Winner… he is always good for an intelligent discussion. Barton…well, chess or something equally challenging, yet inevitably silent. And Yuy… again, my thoughts could keep me entertained- but entirely different thoughts. Ones of dislike, jealousy, and maybe something destructive to his person for hours on end. But no. They're on a mission. A mission. Without me. Because dear Dr. Sally Po seems to think I need bed rest for at least another week, that I shouldn't even be considering a mission for a month or so, or really however long it takes my bones to knit back together.

Is she fucking _kidding_ me?

I read.. I doodled, though I can't even draw a stick figure to save my life. I paced. I sat and twiddled my thumbs. Yes. Twiddled. I didn't even know the _meaning _of the damned word until now. I meditated on just about everything a man like me can meditate upon. I slept. I bathed, which was actually rather nice, with me sitting there under a stream of near-scalding water, just soaking it in. I sat again, though no twiddling this time. I paced some more. I tried hacking into some random high name business mainframe just to see if I could. It took less than five minutes. And now I am mere seconds away to going out of my fucking mind.

That's it. I can't take this 'resting' any more. Standing, I don my shoes and head out of my room. Screw the doctor. There _is_ work I can do. Nataku is in need of major repairs. This will keep me busy for hours, no doubt. Far more enjoyable than simply laying in bed going mad.

I limp through the cool quiet halls, uncomfortable with the solitude I enjoyed once upon a time. It's strange to think I'd actually gotten _used_ to the noise of living with four other people. Ugh. Maybe I _have_ gone soft.

I enter the hangar. Nataku is stretched out on a platform, having evidently undergone a few repairs already. Her head as been reshaped, which I'm grateful for, for that is something I wouldn't be able to accomplish on my own, but I hope that's it. Though I've accepted it before, I'm not particularly found of the thought of anyone but the doctors or myself tinkering with her. Like the other pilots with their Gundams, the possessiveness I have over my dear Gundam is legendary. Even Duo would be hard pressed to get my permission to mess with her. Honestly.

Awkwardly, I climb up the platform, grabbing a toolkit as I go, and slide into the open chest cavity, into the cockpit. I take my time assessing Nataku's damage, checking all her functions, making a mental list of what needs fixing where. This alone takes over an hour.

I've come to enjoy the silence once again. I feel calm. And working on Nataku improves my mood exponentially. It's been a couple of hours, likely past lunch now- I guess this by the growling in my stomach- and I'm still only a fourth of the way through the necessary repairs. This would discourage most anyone. I'm glad I'm not 'most anyone'.

I'm in the middle of testing Nataku's cursory reaction time when I hear the stomp of feet entering the hangar.

"Whoever it is, kill me now or go away! I'm busy," I shout, not even bothering to spy upon the intruder. Whoever it is got past our defenses. He (or she) will be a difficult opponent in the shape I'm in, so if he (or she) is here to kill me there is not much good hiding will do.

"Well, I certainly _have _half a mind to kill you, Chang!" shouts a familiar voice.

I wince. Some opponent. It's none other than Dr. Sally Po, who has come for her daily check up. How could I have forgotten? She's such a fucking mother hen. She needs to get married and have a few dozen kids of her own. I told her this once. Her retort was to ask who I thought would take care of us pilots at the times we couldn't do it ourselves if she did so. I wasn't quick enough to offer a witty response to that. Now she's here and I have half a mind to kill whoever gave her the access codes to our safehouse.

"Are you in that Gundam?" She sounds positively livid.

"No." I continue my testing- connecting wires, observing the screen to see the results, disconnecting more wires, and moving on.

I hear the sound of boots stomping up the platform with a '_clank, clank, clank!_' I'll never understand how she can sound so angry with just her feet. A shadow falls over me.

"Just what in God's name do you think you're doing?"

"I thought it was obvious." I gesture to the controls around me. "Repairing Nataku."

"I told you that you needed to rest!" she shrilled, sounding indignant that I dare disobey her orders.

"There's nothing strenuous about what I'm doing," I mutter.

She makes an irritated noise. "What does it _take_ with you boys to get you to listen to reason?"

"Killing us, I suppose. Hand me the wire clippers." I hold out my hand expectantly. If she is just going to stand there barking at me, she may as well make herself useful.

Despite her protesting, she does as I ask. But as I get back to work, her hand slaps down on my forehead. Disgruntled that she has the nerve to invade my personal space, I glare up at her.

"Well, you don't feel as hot. But I don't trust that. Here." She jams a thermometer in my mouth. Convenient how she just happened to have it on her. "Have you eaten yet?"

I shake my head.

"Have you been forcing your liquids?"

No.

She gives an exasperated sigh. "How do you expect to get any better if you aren't even going to _try_?"

I hope she doesn't expect me to answer with the damned thermometer in my mouth. Speaking of which, the thing beeps pathetically and, with little ceremony, she yanks it out of my mouth again. Looking at it, she then purses her lips and gives me a hard look.

"What?" I demand.

"You still have a slight fever."

"So?"

She frowns. "Why aren't you boys interested in your own well-being?"

"We weren't trained for that," is my reply. "We're expendable."

"Nonsense!" she shouts with such vehemence that I look up at her again. "You _can't_ have been taught that!"

I shrug. "No, but it's true. We're five kids with no parents or guardians to speak of- except _maybe_ Winner. I don't know about the others, but currently my only marketable talent is making war. What is this world going to do with orphans who only know how to fight? And _how_ did this conversation change from a cold to what I have or have not been taught?"

Dr. Po looks positively beside herself. I am rather pleased that she can't come up with a decent rebuttal. "Well, I'll fix you some lunch before I go."

"I can do it myself," I mutter, turning back to Nataku.

"Maybe you can. But I know you won't. And here, take this." She yanks one of my hands away from my work and forces a caplet into it. "I don't know how many times I've had to tell you that you need to keep up with the antibiotics until they are _all_ gone." She then backs away from my Gundam and I can hear her footsteps fading out the hangar.

I pop the caplet in my mouth and, grimacing, swallow it dry. That woman has too much time on her hands if she can waste it worrying about the five of us.

I resume my repairs on Nataku, only to be interrupted not five minutes later when Po returns with a bowl of what is likely instant soup. Only her threat to pull me out by my hair gets me out of the cockpit and over to the control panel. The bowl of soup is enormous and an extra tall glass of water sits beside it.

"Eat. Drink."

"Not all of it, I assure you." But she is watching me like a hawk, so I eat. And I drink. The alternating hot and cool liquid feels nice down my throat, which is surprisingly raw. I had been unaware of that fact. Finally, I push the bowl and the glass away. If I eat or drink any more, I'm going to puke all over the control panel. I tell her as much. She looks dissatisfied but takes the bowl and glass away.

"I'll call tomorrow to check up on you- I'll be cross country at another of our bases. You'd better rest!" She worries a bit more, but eventually she heads out the door.

I wave her off impatiently. Glancing back at Nataku, I feel a deep weariness come over me, all the way down to my bones. Apparently, the repairs were more strenuous than I thought. I grimace. I don't really like that thought. I hate to think that she is right. I guess a little more resting can't hurt. And with a tremendous yawn that threatens to split my head in two, I limp back to my room, once again completely aware of the utter silence that permeates the safehouse.

---

I don't know how much time has passed, but I find myself waking up again, irritated and quite suddenly. I force back the desire to bash in the head of my disturbance long enough to think about just _what_ woke me up. I hear the muffled sound of voices farther down the hall. There is the hiss of doors closer by opening, then closing. The dropping of gear onto tables, floors, etc…

They're home.

Dammit! Don't those bastards have consideration for a man who is sleeping? Swinging my legs out of bed, I stomp- as best I can, with my injured leg- out of my room and down the hall. The voices grow louder. Not exceptionally so, but loud enough to irritate the hell out of me for their disrespect.

"Don't you morons have any respect for a man who's trying to sleep?" I shout at Winner and Barton, who are pouring over a map. They look at me in surprise. Even Yuy, who is in the corner wrapping an injury, glances over at me.

"Sorry Wufei, I didn't realize we were being so loud," Winner says, holding up a hand at me as if he's trying to appease a child.

It irritates me but, at the same time, my overall weariness causes it to drain away relatively quickly. I sit down across from Winner and Barton, effectively ignoring Yuy, who I think is doing the same to me. "How did it go?"

"Well, we accomplished what we went in to do. But it was largely a disaster as well…"

I then notice a smudge of ash on Winner's cheek and a large, bruising knot over Barton's left temple. I arched a brow, waiting for him to continue.

"Most of the town was destroyed in the ensuing battle," Winner sighs. "It was a nightmare."

"A vision of Hell at its finest," Barton says.

He nods, smiling wearily at him. "Exactly."

For some reason, Barton's comment makes me think of Duo- I promise I don't know _why_ it's this comment in particular- and I glance around the main living space. I frown when I don't see him.

Winner, ever observant, jerks his head towards the hall. There is no such thing as being discreet around _him_, apparently. "In his room. Something about the battle really affected him. Waves of it…" He shakes his head. "Anyway, he went straight to his room when we returned…" He casts a mournful glance at the hall, likely in sympathy.

I pause, not wanting to seem obvious, but then… what the hell? Winner already knows. Yuy and Barton aren't fools. If they haven't figured it out, they will soon.

Back down the hall I go, stopping in front of a door with a tattered sign tacked on the wall beside it that proclaims, in chipped blue paint, 'Forget Dog, Beware of Owner.' I roll my eyes and, steeling myself for who knows what, rap a knuckle on the door. There is no response so I assume he's napping. I move to leave but a pair of hands pushes me forward again. I glance over my shoulder to see Winner. I didn't hear him come up behind me. Damn him. How dare he effectively sneak up on me! He shakes his head and points at the door before continuing down the hall to his own room.

I watch him a moment before trying again. And again, there is no response. Frowning deeply, I push a button underneath the stupid sign and the door slides open. I take a deep breath and enter. Dammit, just like he said what seems like so long ago… It's _freezing _in here. How does Duo _live_ in this icebox? I glance around. The shades are unexpectedly drawn. Well that certainly doesn't help. The room itself is similar to mine (excluding the freezing cold, naturally), and unexpectedly neat except for the corner where the desk is crammed. Files, newspaper clippings, mobile suit parts in various states of disrepair clutter the desk in a surprisingly… organized fashion. However that is possible. The blank, standby screen of a laptop peeks out from beneath the clutter. The wall behind the desk is marked with minute, sloppy script- notes, dates and times, and various other things like 'five to the left' and 'topside evening complacent' that apparently make sense to him and him alone. Sitting in the abused desk chair directly across from me is Duo, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, clutching to his forehead a small, very neat, book with a black leather cover. It takes me a moment to realize that, in his white-knuckled grip, it's his religion's bible.

Reaching out, feeling insanely awkward with what my body is making me do, I put a hand on his shoulder. I tense upon contact. He's trembling violently.


	18. Chapter 18

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 18:**

Duo… He is completely flipping out on me. There is something completely wrong with this scenario. He _can't_ flip out. He's the perpetual life of the fucking party!

"Hey… Are you … er… okay?" I ask.

He is saying something, over and over I think. His voice is strained and quiet and his words come out in a frantic sounding hiss. He clutches his small black bible, pressing it to his forehead and the chanting increases. Even leaning in, I can barely hear him.

"Make it stop make it stop oh God make it stop."

I consider myself pretty tough to intimidate. And here Duo is freaking the shit out of me. What is it about him that renders him able to do these things to me? I'd stop it if I knew. It makes me feel vulnerable. I don't like vulnerability.

I don't think he's aware that I'm here. I tighten my grip on his shoulder and give it a slight shake. "Duo. Duo, are you okay?" I ask again, feeling a bit bolder this time.

He looks up at me and I am unprepared for the sight. His entire face is contorted with grief. I withdraw my hand from his shoulder and back away. Then I stop. No… I can't do this. It's like a test. If I can handle his grief, I can handle anything. Right? By the look on his face, I'm not so sure.

"Er… you okay?" I ask for the third time in less than as many minutes.

He squints at me, no, more like _through_ me, gripping his book tightly in his hands. "I… don't know." He takes a deep, shuddering breath and I sense that he's fighting to stay in control of himself. And I don't know what to do about it.

Folding my arms over my chest, I lean against the wall, next to a note that reads 'type orange ride'. Again, no fucking clue what his bizarre little notes mean. "Do you need to… talk about it?" I ask awkwardly. Comfort is not my strong point, if it wasn't obvious. But I try. I don't even do that for most people.

With a deep breath, the grief disappears from his face. Or is masked. Either way, it appears he's regained control. Probably so he won't make himself out to be an ass. It's what I'd do, anyway. Funny how he'd worry about that _now_. "Ah, no. I don't want to bother you with my problems."

"And when has that stopped you before?"

He looks shocked with my response. Then he glares at me. Well, I guess it's better than his freaking out. Glares are less likely to affect me so much. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Well, it's true." I shrug. He makes an offended noise. "Anyway, I can't try to be sympathetic if I don't know what the hell is wrong in the first place."

"You? Sympathetic?"

That's right, damn you! I snort. "Now who's being rude?"

He sighs, looking neither pleased nor angry, rolling the book back and forth in his hands.

"Winner said the mission went badly," I finally say after a moment of silence.

Duo sighs again, casting the book aside, and buries his face in his hands. "It was a complete nightmare," he groans.

I wait for him to continue. A minute of silence passes between us before I finally roll my eyes and speak again. "I gathered _that_ much from him. He said something happened that made you flip out… but he didn't say what."

"Quatre's great and all but sometimes I think he has a big mouth."

"You're trying to change the subject."

"Yeah. You see, people usually do that when they don't want to talk about something."

No shit. "So you'll let the poison just eat away at you, will you?"

He smoothes his hands down his face and glares at me again, through his fingers. "I just… remembered things I didn't really want to remember."

I shrug. "We _all_ do that."

He sighs, forcefully shoving his hands through his chestnut hair. Strands fall into his eyes and I clench my fists, trying to resist the temptation to touch that hair, to brush it out of his … yes… amazing… eyes. I can't even keep my damned head straight for a minute! I clench my fists tighter.

There will be marks on my palms after this.

"Yeah? In the middle of battle? When your sanity is needed most?"

I glance askance. "We've all even lost it in battle," I mutter.

"Even you?" There is skepticism in his weary tone.

"When I said that we've _all_ lost it, yes, I meant me included," I say in a distinct 'weren't you listening?' tone.

He harrumphs. "So what would cause you to lose it?"

"I asked you first."

"Yeah, but I don't want to bore you with the details…"

I arch a brow. No way in hell will he weasel out of this. I think my reply is clear.

"Shut up!"

Is he telling my _facial _expression to shut up?

He's quiet for a moment, staring long and hard at the book he's twisting in his hands. "A church."

"What?" I ask stupidly. Well, how could I not? Could he be any more vague?

"I destroyed… no… _annihilated_… I completely annihilated a church in that town where we battled OZ." I see the muscles in his jaw work for a moment before continuing. "Down to cinders. With people still inside."

"Not on purpose?"

"Of course not."

Of course not. I tilt my head to the side, observing him for a moment. "I thought you weren't religious."

"I'm not. Just… the memories. The nightmares…" He waves his hands around his head, as if the memories are tangible. As if by just mere motions, he can bat them away. "I hate them."

I frown, thinking about what I know about him and his circumstances, which isn't a lot. Like the rest of us, he's only revealed pieces of himself, through necessity or under the influence of sweet and bitter drink. I _do _know he's Duo. Duo Maxwell. He grew up in a church… Clearly destroying that church affected him.

What else…?

I recall reading of a massacre involving a church. I blink. I think I've made a connection. "The Maxwell Church Massacre…"

"Yes. Where I lost the few people who cared whether or not I lived or died." He inclines his head slightly. "Excellent deduction, Wuffers."

I roll my eyes. Apparently he's fine if he can call me that asinine nickname. Or is he putting on a front? It's possible. We all do it. I scowl. I hate these 'what-ifs' that constantly barrage my thoughts now that I find myself desiring his company more than is technically tolerable by most sane people. Clearly I am not sane. "Don't call me that. It's ridiculous."

He grins, though it's not his usual manic grin. I don't really like this grin. "And that's exactly why I use it." He folds his arms over his chest and I must say that I don't like this either. I can't believe it myself, but I actually, _actually_ want the normal Duo back… Loss of sanity has been confirmed.

"So what about you?"

I shake myself out of my reverie. "What _about_ me?"

"I told you my weepy, tragic story- well, you figured it out. So what about you?" He cocks his head to the side and stares at me.

I look away and shift my weight, uncomfortable with his staring. "Well… my clan was considered violent by most outsiders. Apparently we were too much for OZ to tolerate. They tried to destroy us," I say in a clipped way. I know I sound as though it doesn't bother me. I mean to.

"That's OZ for you," Duo says bitterly.

"I lost my wife to them."

There is silence between us. I glance at him to find he is staring at me wide eyed.

"Your _what_?" He blinks and shakes his head. Chestnut strands go askew. I have to fold my arms over my chest and stuff my hands tightly under my arms to keep them from moving on their own. "Just how old _are_ you?"

I roll my eyes. Apparently he knows nothing of cultures other than his own… But then, my clan hadn't existed outside our colony for years. Like many, he might not have even known it existed. "I'm the same age as you, moron." He makes an indignant noise at this. Serves him right! "It's customary for my clan to marry at fourteen."

The silence thickens. And suddenly…

"Pffft!"

I look over. Duo's shoulders are quaking again. But this time… What the fuck? "Are you _laughing_ at me?"

"N-n-no!" The quaking increases and he snorts loudly. Hmm. I did not picture him a 'snorter'.

I narrow my eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Pffft. Y-y-you- hee-hee- _you_! Ma-ma-_married_!" He flings his head back then allowing himself absolutely hysterical laughter.

"I fail to see the humor in this."

He's clutching his stomach now hardly breathing he's laughing so hard. Hell, his face is turning purple from the effort. "Ah, ah, I'm so-rr-… rr-rr- _Pffft_!" And he doubles over again so violently that he tumbles straight out of his chair.

"It's not that funny!" I say impatiently. Honestly, what the hell is so funny about me having been married?

After another minute or so, his laughter finally dies away and he straightens himself up. Groping blindly behind him, he clambers back onto his seat that had shot across the room when he fell off. "Ah… hee-hee… I mean… heh sorry." Then he hiccups loudly. "Sorry, sorry."

"Mind letting me in on what was so funny?"

He hiccups again. "I just never pictured you -_hic_- settling down. Getting married." He titters again momentarily.

"I told you already, it's our custom."

With a nod, he squints at me. "Did you -_hic_- did you love her?"

I sigh, closing my eyes. "I respected her… admired her… but… I don't think it was love. I was too young to know what love was anyway. But that's not the reason we get married."

Again with the silence, only this time it's broken at random intervals by Duo hiccupping. In a strange, stupid, unexplainable way, I find it endearing. Just a little. Excluding, of course, the fact that he got them by laughing his ass off at me.

I open my eyes and look at him. He is staring off into some distance only he can see. I sigh, annoyed with him. No. Not really with him. With myself. I have a completely mad obsession over him. I know this. And _he_ knows this. Though he plays the role from time to time, he really is no fool. And I'm not doing a very good job at proving it- my obsession. To be frank, I can't believe myself. Perhaps my fever destroyed a few of my brain cells. So, of course, I do. Prove it, I mean.

Like the fucking parasite I am, I attack- fingers wound in soft hair, mouth trying to devour him, leeching off Duo's grief in an attempt to make the both of us feel better. Or not. I expect one of two things: one, he sits there, in a trance, unresponsive, like a mannequin with heat, two, flat rejection. I nearly pull back when, without warning, he responds to me. Once again, he completely ignores my expectations. He grabs my waist and yanks me back in. I nearly fall in his lap, which my hormones say is not at all a bad thing. I'm really tempted to start believing the damned things when he does stuff like this.

Duo hiccups again and we both jump with it. But it doesn't stop it. The kiss prolongs…deepens… It's amazing. _He's _amazing. Suddenly his room isn't so cold anymore. And then…

Someone hammers on the door. We jump away from one another. I don't know about him, but I'm startled as hell. Very displeased as well. The heat in my gut is snuffed immediately. And we both redden.

"Er… yeah?" Duo squeaks. Yes. Squeaks.

"If Chang is in there, Dr. Po is on the line for him." Yuy. It is just _so _convenient. Perhaps I'm just letting my imagination run wild, but I wouldn't put it past him and Po to be in on something together, just to spite me.

I fucking hate them!


	19. Chapter 19

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: This chapter has been tweaked since it's posting june 6_

**Chapter 19:**

I must look crazy as hell because the moment I step before the vid screen, Dr. Po starts ranting about my inability to take care of myself.

"I have half a mind to fly over there and rope you to your bed!" She makes several incoherent noises, apparently out of frustration. I just stare at her. I never said I was going to go along with her easily. She should've known what she'd gotten herself into. "Your face is flushed, probably with another fever! You need rest!"

Right. Fever. I'll let her continue believing that. "I don't really go for bondage," I say dryly. Then I make a face. Damn. Duo's rubbing off on me.

Her nostrils flare. "Well, at least I know you boys are normal where your _hormones_ are concerned!" She doesn't look pleased with that knowledge, however. She waves at a person off-screen and then turns another glare on me. "Have you been keeping up with-"

"The antibiotics, yes."

She looks as though she doesn't believe me. "You'd better be. Have there been any complications I should know about?"

My thoughts direct towards my visit with Duo that her call so very _rudely _interrupted. "Ah, no. Not exactly."

This apparently wasn't the right choice of words in my attempt to convince the interfering woman of my health. "Tell me," she demands.

I shake my head. "It's not how you think, woman!" Honestly! My obsession with Duo is none of her fucking business! "And dammit! I can take care of myself, thank you!"

"Hmph! Apparently not!"

"I have no desire to continue this ridiculous conversation any further. I am fine. I am rested. I am taking the damned antibiotics as directed. And my personal problems are mine and mine alone. So stop fussing over me like I'm some child that must be coddled! Goodbye."

"Wu-"

I reach over and turn the screen off, effectively ending the call.

"She's right. You don't look too well."

I glance over my shoulder and see Barton, still sitting at the table. Beside him, Winner is grinning like the devil at me. I turn back around, propping my head on the wall. I can feel my face redden, all the way up my neck and through my ears. Why fucking me? "Just shoot me now."

"We'd be out a fine pilot if we did that," Winner says. He is quiet for a moment and then adds, "I think your visit really helped."

I'm not so convinced, but he can believe what he wants. "Just one thing- and let that damned Yuy know too- if that… _woman _calls for me again, tell her I've died."

I hear the two of them snicker behind me. Winner, I can sort of understand. The guy is able to laugh. But Barton? _Snicker_? Is he really capable of that? Just what the hell is happening to this world in which I live!

---

"You know what I thought might be fun? Let's have a movie night."

"Movie night?" I look at Duo incredulously.

He nods, holding up a disc. "Look what I found stashed away in my closet of all places. Digitally remastered thrice over, _How to Kill a Guy in 10 Days_, the Eiser Edition. A classic blow stuff up flick. You can't even find these in video rental shops… not that I've really looked because I forgot it existed. And really, when do I have the time to look?" I give him a look to get to the point. Though I find I don't really mind the babbling. Good lord kill me now. He looks at the back of the disc, inspecting it for scratches or other signs of use. "Well, yeah. So, I haven't seen it, but I've heard about it over the span of my few years. It's gonna be great!"

"And it's decades old. Maybe even a century or so."

"Yeah. Which is why they call it a _classic_, no doubt. Good, old movies are usually called that."

I roll my eyes at his smart-ass remark. "And being considered a classic makes this a good idea?"

He sighs. "Come on, Wufei." He made a funny hissing noise that sounds like 'tsch'. I make a face at him. Honestly, he's so obnoxious sometimes… I guess another one of those damned endearing qualities about him that I obsess over. "It's not like we have anything _else_ to do… hmm, for once, actually," he adds thoughtfully. He shakes his head. "Anyway, it's practically flooding outside-" He gestures out the window. The sky is nearly black from the storm. It's true. I wouldn't be surprised if we had to evacuate for floods. "-and that lightening looks pretty explosive. With my luck I'd get hit by it the moment I stepped outside- not at all prime conditions for going out _anywhere_." He dangles the disc in front of me as if he's trying to encourage a horse to move for a carrot.

I consider it. Me. Duo. Watching a movie. The two of us. Maybe I can touch that hair… Damn you, hair guy! Damn you, damn you, damn you! I want to say no, just to spite the hair guy within, but I find myself nodding in consent. Damn you once again! The hair guy smirks in triumph.

With a grin, he seizes my arm and drags me along.

About ten minutes later, popcorn has been popped, drinks have been dispersed, and the movie has started- well previews for decades old films are showing. Remember how I said it would be just the two of us?

How much more wrong could I possibly get?

By methods unknown to me, Duo has conned, wheedled, begged, or sweet-talked the others into watching the movie as well. I find myself crammed between Winner and Yuy, with Barton stuffed in between the couch's arm and Winner- four of us on a couch that is built to fit three- albeit a bit uncomfortably. Then Duo returned from the kitchen with a heaping bowl of popcorn. Nudging me aside (as if there is room, despite the fact he is a stick), he squashes in between Yuy and me, making it five. There is no way in hell we are going to get off this sofa now.

I try to move to achieve some sort of comfort in this impossibly tiny space. All that happens is that I end up sitting on Duo's knee. And what a bony knee it is, jabbing sharply into the back of my leg. I shift again and end up half under Winner's leg. I give Duo a discomfited scowl. "You know… I think you need to rethink this seating arrangement."

I try to wriggle my way out of the human trap. He grabs my arm and pulls me back, clearly intent on keeping me from succeeding. Damn him! "Shh, it's starting." Then he crams a mouthful of popcorn into my mouth, quite unexpectedly I'll have you know, to shut me up.

And I do shut up. I'm too busy gagging on the lightly salted kernels to do anything else. I'm going to kill him one of these days.

"Here guys, help yourselves." Duo plops the popcorn bowl onto my lap, since I happen to be the lucky man in the middle.

Three hands reach for the bowl at once and I swear I'm going to lop one of them off for no reason whatsoever. I don't want to be the popcorn bowl holder. I don't want the other pilots anywhere in the vicinity of this safehouse. I just want to watch this stupid movie with Duo and Duo alone!

I curse my feelings. In about eight different languages.

An hour and a half passes. I've learned one thing throughout this entire thing. Watching a movie with Duo is damned near impossible. The others are far luckier. Forty-five minutes into the movie, Barton nodded off. Winner wasn't too far behind. And Yuy hasn't even moved for the past ten minutes. Asleep. All of them. I hate them. I envy them. They don't have to witness what I'm witnessing. Damned lucky bastards. It must be nice to be so tired.

With little attention on what he's doing- as most of his attention is fixed on the action unfolding on the screen- Duo is licking the fucking popcorn salt off his fingers. Ew, you think. Gross, you think. And yet… so very much not these things.

I feel like a voyeur. Sneaking some sort of freakish 'forbidden peek' at someone else's sexual experiences. And liking it _far _too much. Christ! All he is doing is licking his fingers! Something nearly _everyone_ does if a drip of food goes astray! And in this context, there is absolutely nothing _erotic_ about it.

He pauses in his display, finger in mouth, eyes wide, fixed on the screen. I, of course, am too busy fixed on _him_. Then he releases the finger with a faint sound of suction. Admirably, I control a shudder.

He is about to go on to the next finger. Dammit, that is _it_! I grab his hand and stuff it under the sofa's scratchy cushions.

"No more!" I hiss.

Understandably, Duo looks stunned, first at me, then at the cushions between which his hand is sandwiched. "Excuse me?"

"Stop doing that!"

He gives me an odd look, wrenching his hand free, wiping it on his jeans. "Doing _what_?"

Oh as if you don't _know_! I frown. How can I explain it without sounding like a complete and utter fool? Disregarding the fact that I already _do_ sound like a complete and utter fool. "Nng…" is about the only non-incriminating response I can come up with.

He rolls his eyes and grins. "Well be quiet then, Wuffers. You're going to wake everyone else."

By 'everyone else', I'm sure he means Yuy, and Yuy alone, as he fixes a glance on him as he says it.

Sighing internally, I turn my gaze back to the movie, feeling absolutely… I don't know, miserable, annoyed, who knows? It has turned out that Duo and I _are_ watching a movie, just the two of us. But, even as I sit next to him, I am completely alone.


	20. Chapter 20

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Look! Already on chapter 20! I was certain it'd be finished by now! But our boys are very stubborn. This chapter is a bit fluffier than usual. I am forced to assure you that our dearest Wuffers threatened to kill me after it was written. Bwahaha! -grin- Enjoy!_

**Chapter 20:**

The first thing I notice when I resurface in the world of consciousness is silence. Or the slightly unfamiliar lack thereof. In my room, there is relative silence, broken only by the hum of my laptop or the air conditioning unit. This can't be my room, for I don't hear the air conditioning or my laptop. I hear breathing. And I am laying on something that is vastly uncomfortable.

I try to coax my brain further awake, but it protests. I'd much rather go back to sleep. But instead, I force an eye open. This ceiling is not my ceiling. I open my other eye with much internal protest and glance around.

Ah. The living room. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. That explains my discomfort and the lack of familiarity. My gaze makes a full circle around the room before I notice a shock of chestnut hair on my chest. It's then my mind registers- with a jolt of surprise and a curse at my morning stupidity- that there is weight over my limbs.

Duo is sprawled out, fast asleep. On top of me. And what's more, his braid is coiled around my hand. Keeping him there. Over us is a blanket, I realize, feeling my face grow hot. Good lord, I don't even remember falling asleep. Hastily, I loosen my grip on his hair.

I try to sit up, but Duo makes a noise of protest and mumbles something like "Just five more minutes," in a drowsy voice.

"Are you awake?" I hiss, glancing down at his sleeping form. There is no reply. I guess that's my answer.

Why me? Why _me_? And just _where_ are the others?

I prod his shoulder sharply, repeatedly. I insist he wakes up. I'm going to end up enjoying this too much and _then_ where would I be? The living room is not a place to be enjoying anything! Did… did I just think that? Yes… apparently I did.

He squirms and makes an agitated noise. "I just want five more minutes!" he protests in a voice akin to growling. He hasn't even opened his damned eyes yet.

"Not on me you won't!" Because I'm fighting a losing battle. I'm going to take advantage if he stays here any longer.

He cracks an eye open and blinks slowly. "Huh?" He blinks again. Then he grins. "Morning Wuffers." He drops his head back onto my chest. Damn him! He's going back to sleep!

I jab him again.

His head pops back up and he gives me a grouchy look. "Wu_fei_!" He drags out the last syllable of my name in a long, exasperated whine. "Stop doing that. I want to go back to sleep."

"No you don't! If I have to be awake, so do you!"

He tilts his head and gives me another sleepy grin. "Ah, but if I _don't_ move, you'll be stuck here." He drops his head back into place and shifts around, apparently trying to make himself comfortable. On me!

Oh, the inhumanity! "Not if I dump you on the ground," I grumble.

"You won't."

His voice vibrates through my chest. I try not to squirm. My god, this is … this is mad! This is torture! I don't even know what this is!

"G'night." He yawns hugely and settles down, eyes closed. Does he think I'm going to let him go back to sleep?

"Get up!"

"Mm… just a little… longer… Wufei."

He takes a deep breath and a moment later, falls limp. I am astounded. How the hell can he fall asleep so quickly?

I heave a sigh and stare at the bland ceiling, considering my options. I can be considered cruel and just dump him on the floor. Or I can let him sleep and endure my suffering in silence. I scowl. Are these my only options: to dump or to suffer? Neither one sounds very appealing to me. I fling my arm over my eyes. What did I do to deserve this?

Okay, I can't take it anymore! Cruelty be damned.

Grabbing his shoulders, I give him a mighty shove off the couch. Far from being surprised, he actually smirks and seizes my arms, dragging me off with him with a yelp.

"_Goddammit_!" I wheeze after I tumble head over heels across the floor and he pins me to the ground. I can hardly breathe it hurts so much.

"You thought I wasn't going to fight back? You don't give me enough credit. Anyway, I wasn't asleep you know. I was _trying _but you fidget too much." He then blinks, clambers off of me, and swears under his breath. "Aw man… I forgot about the broken bones…" He grabs me under the arms and, before I can protest- if I even have the breath to- hauls me to his feet. That didn't feel much better. "Don't provoke me like that! You okay?"

I barely manage a simple 'yes'. I am too distracted by the fact that his hands are wandering over me, inspecting for any re-injury. I pull his hands away before I completely fall apart. He gives me an odd look. Dammit, he doesn't even _realize_ it!

"I- I'm fine," I say stupidly, trying to regain my composure. I just stammered. I'm done for. That's it for me. Take my Gundam away now for I'm not fit to pilot her. I can't even stay sane on a day-to-day basis. I should return to my reclusive lifestyle, perhaps working in a cramped room where I'll never see a living soul again. Where I certainly won't have to see Duo obsess for the rest of his live over Yuy and-

His mouth crashes onto mine. My stream of thoughts is effectively cut off. Those thoughts evaporate completely and my mind narrows completely onto one thing- Duo. As if they weren't already always fucking preoccupied with him at least fractionally.

The 'hair guy' wants to touch his hair and do I resist? Of course not. Damn him. But why should I complain? I get to touch. I get to taste. I'm going absolutely mad but it's okay, right? Besides, he started it.

I pull him closer. And then… He jerks away with an audible sniff.

"Mm, is that coffee I smell? Morning ambrosia!" I realize then that the aromas of breakfast are wafting in from the kitchen. And off he goes, towards the kitchen, as if nothing had happened. Off to where _some_ son of a bitch decided to make _coffee_ for no apparent reason except to inconvenience _me_!

And talk about a short attention span. It's a wonder he can even fight a complete battle! Unless it's just me. I scowl accordingly. Well I am sorry I am not Heero _fucking_ Yuy!

I plop back onto the couch, feeling as though I've been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Yeah. Not pleasant. I glare at his back.

Did he have to do that to me? Did he really _have _to do that to me?

I swear I am going to fucking _kill_ Duo Maxwell!

And I swear I'll really do it this time.

With this affirmation running on loop in my mind, I nod to myself and hobble to the kitchen to see just which bastard made the coffee. Both Barton and Winner are in the kitchen. Winner is drinking a cup of coffee, reading a week-old newspaper, while Barton scrambles up some eggs that smell like burning rubber. I must say I do a pretty good job keeping myself from commenting on his cooking skills- or lack thereof.

Duo comes up next to me with a cup that reeks strongly of coffee. I glance over the chipped rim. He drinks the strongest brand available black and scalding hot. I make a face. My god, how can he stand it like that? Or stand it at all?

"Care for a cup?" he asks, holding out an empty mug.

I shake my head and give him my best 'I hate you and I hope you die' glare.

He grins, quirking a brow, shrugs, and sets the mug aside. "Quatre was telling me that we have a mission."

I glance over at Winner who jumps when he hears his name. My eyes narrow slightly as he fumbles with his paper. Well isn't he jumpy?

"Yes… ah… the mission. It's in old Birmingham. Or just on the outskirts of the town, actually. There is a mobile suit factory running under the cover of an auto parts factory, I think it was. It's they typical OZ-in-a-factory scenario. Go in, find out what you can, destroy what you can, get out with most body parts intact."

I frown, thinking it over. I suppose one might say I'm not in the best of conditions to fight. One might say that I should've learned from all the previous missions I failed because I wasn't in top condition. Well, I don't listen to 'one'. And besides… It will give me something to do other than think about the one I want to kill right now all day. "All right. As long as that damned Dr. Po doesn't find out. She'll have a coronary if she does. Print me out a copy of the instructions."

Winner nods a bit hesitantly.

I don't think much of it. "So when do we leave?"

"Not we," Barton says, scraping his rubbery eggs onto a plastic plate.

"What?"

"Not we."

Winner clears his throat and gives me a meaningful glance.

"So… just me?"

"And Duo."

I glance at Duo. He shrugs, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "How do _you_ know about this then?" I ask Winner.

"The doctors sent the mission to _me_. By accident, I guess. But no question it was meant for the two of you."

I heave a great sigh. I try not to think about the details of the mission- like… I'll be with Duo. By myself. "All right. When are we supposed to leave?"

"Tonight."

"Uh-uh." Duo waves his hand in a definite 'no' gesture. We all stare at him. "Not tonight. Wuffers and I are… going out." I choke. He looks at me and whacks my back, as if that will help. There is a mischievous grin on his face.

"We are?"

"You are?"

"_Wuffers_?"

"Yes, we are."

"You call me that again and you will die a death so gruesome I don't know what it will be yet, Barton!"

Inside, the hair guy insists that I can't kill Duo yet. Not after that proclamation he made. It would be best, he assures me, to wait until after this 'going out' thing. The very least I could do is see what he has in mind.

Okay, so his impending death will be put on hold!

I'm beginning to think I have dual personalities…


	21. Chapter 21

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: I had trouble stopping this chapter! But I had to or it would have probably ended up the same length as the story itself and it's likely it would've taken several more days to complete! As it is, I think this is the longest chapter to date! Enjoy!_

**Chapter 21:**

I had asked him where we were going. How could I not? But the only things he told me were to 'just dress casual' and 'It'll be fun, I _swear_'. I am not so reassured. 'Fun' for Duo Maxwell is not always 'fun' for anyone sane. Then again…

Quelling the absolute terror that is welling in my gut, I ready myself for this mystery 'outing'.

This is madness. No good can come of this- this unplanned jaunt through… who knows what. _Why_ am I going along with this? Dammit. I know why. I sit on the edge of my bed with my face in my hands. I can't do this! I think I'm going to be sick…

There is a knock on my door. I don't remember if I admit my guest, but the door slides open anyway.

"Christ, Wufei! You call that casual?"

I look up through my fingers and see Duo crossing to the cabinet beneath Nataku's schematics. "What's wrong with it?" I demand.

"You look like you're going to a funeral." I don't bother to correct his cultural errors, as I suppose he already knows of it. He flings open the doors. "If anything says 'I'm a Gundam pilot and I'm here to kick your ass', what you're wearing not only says it, it dances it as well." He tosses out article after article of previously folded clothing. Making a complete mess of things. I try not to let this bother me. But my god, what the hell is he doing? "You give a new meaning to the phrase 'dressed to kill'."

I blink. "Your point? And why are you going through my things? I didn't give you permission."

He pokes his head out from my cabinet. "I'm trying to rectify your mistake, Sherlock. Oh. Not to offend you or anything. I mean, I can't believe I'm saying this about _you_ of all people, but you _do _look pretty damn hot. Just not really… right for what I have in mind."

I stare at him. Incredulity abounds. How the hell am I supposed to take that! A compliment and an insult all rolled into one neat little phrase. I don't even notice the fact that he called me… 'hot', of all things. I really don't.

"Not that I can set the standards or anything. But I said look _casual_. Not centerfold for Ninja Weekly."

"This _is_ casual," I retort. And it is! … I think. And what the hell is up with all of his comparisons?

Pulling out of the cabinet again, Duo eyes me for a moment. He shrugs. "Maybe. But when I said casual, I meant _me_ casual." He gestures to his t-shirt that I think was probably once a rich blue but had been washed so many times it turned out sort of grayish, and faded, ratty blue jeans. He resumes assault on my cabinet.

"And I'm supposed to read your mind?"

"Basically."

I snort. "You're getting on my nerves."

"And you won't have any fun dressed like that. Good lord… I can't believe it…" His voice sounds hollow in my cabinet. I glance at the wrinkled lumps on my floor. It must be empty, that cabinet…

"What now?"

"You don't even own a pair of jeans!" He looks at me with disgust. "And you call yourself a man!"

"Am… I supposed to apologize?" I ask, arching my brow. He's gone off the deep end. Well, further off it, anyway.

"Yes. And with impressive gusto. But I'm wise enough to not expect anything from you." He winks, grabbing my arm, and I'm suddenly struck with the idea that we should forget going out somewhere. We should just enjoy the night… at home. Hair, skin, and Duo. Damn it all to fucking hell.

I will cruelly assassinate the hair guy when this is all over. I like his ideas _far_ too much to remain this stand-in role I have been forced to assume.

With an iron grip on my arm, Duo drags me after him, out of my room, down the hall, and I just foolishly go along for the ride. We pass the 'Forget the dog' sign, heading straight into his chilly room.

I swallow hard as my head fills with all sorts of Duo in various states of undress. The hair guy is laughing at me. I have come to one conclusion. The hair guy has paired up with Justice. He must have. I did something so hideously unspeakable in a former life and now they are working to bring me down in the most miserable and embarrassing manner conceivable. My just punishment. That must be it. That's the only explanation…

I clench my fist and open my mouth to say that maybe this isn't such a good idea when a bundle hits my face and tumbles neatly into my arms. It's then I realize that he had been talking to me. Duo, that is.

"What?" I say stupidly.

"Put these. Clothes. On," he repeats in a slow, laborious voice one usually reserves for very young, easily distracted children. I glare at him. "It's time you came back from outer space. Figuratively."

I look down at the bundle in my arms- a faded black t-shirt and jeans that are not quite as old as the ones he had on. "I don't think we should be doing this right before a mission," I say, rather pathetically. And it's only because I'm positively terrified about what's going to happen, that I'll go crazy. I know that he does this to me. I hate it. It's so fucking frustrating. But… I think I am starting to really like it too.

Duo sighs. "Whether we get there tonight or tomorrow morning, what we have to do isn't going to change. If we went tonight, we _still_ wouldn't be able to execute our mission because we don't have a plan. Getting there tonight would just mean we have to sleep there an extra night." He waves his hand dismissively. "Anyway, we have all tomorrow to plan. Enjoying your life just a _fraction_ isn't going to kill you. Now change." He grins coyly. "Wuffers."

I grumble under my breath about how _one day_ I'm truly, honestly going to kill him as I make my way into his bathroom. Behind me, he shouts something in victory. I shake my head. It's official. That damned nickname is here to stay.

Well, if I really think hard on it, I suppose it could actually possibly be worse.

Of course, I'm not going to tell _him_ that. He'll actually _think_ of something worse just to spite me. He's that way.

I change clothes as I was instructed, trying not to think of the fact that Duo once wore these vastly uncomfortable jeans, that he once wore this flimsy old shirt. None of it fits quite right because he is more lean than I.

"What are you doing in there? Writing a thesis? Hurry up!"

His shout snaps me back into reality. "I'm done!" I shout back, abandoning my neatly folded clothes in a corner next to the bathroom door that I exit. "Satisfied?" I mutter, feeling very odd in these clothes that are not mine. They are constricting, yet loose. I'm not really sure I like them.

He tilts his head and eyes me, his expression absolutely blank. Again, I'm struck with the desire to suggest we linger behind. He grins then, making me feel as though he's read my mind. "It'll do."

"It'll do? Is that all you have to say after all your drama?"

"Eh? What did you want me to say? Oh what a hunk of burning love! Take me right now, you big strong man!" he trills in a girlish voice.

'Yes!' my hormones are screaming. My face burns and I scowl at him. "Fuck you." To him _and_ those fucking hormones.

He grins slyly. "Well, I-"

"Ap! Not. Another. Word!"

His grin simply broadens. And I make a valiant attempt to keep from turning scarlet. I think I deserve a lot of credit for my efforts.

Finally, he jerks his head towards the door and he heads out. I, having nothing else to do anyway and (hey, who knows where it will lead?) I follow. Winner and Barton are playing chess as we pass.

"Don't wait up," Duo shouts gleefully, exiting the safehouse.

I'm just trying to ignore the grin Winner is giving me as I follow. "Watch out. Barton cheats," I grunt in a severe way that will let him know that whatever it is he's 'feeling'… well, he's not feeling it.

We spend several minutes walking- or in my case, limping- in silence. Well, not quite. I asked about the walking thing. Duo pointed out that none of us were brilliant enough this time around to bring in tow vehicles other than our Gundams and how would _that_ look heading into town? I have to admit he made an excellent point.

Dusk is falling, but the sun hasn't finished setting yet. Everything is orange and dry and a mild breeze rushes through the streets, carrying leaves and debris with it. It's summer right now, but you can tell that fall is on its way.

I take a deep breath and look at the stretch of sky overhead. Gray-violet clouds are clumped randomly along the horizon. With the way the wind is going, they'll be on us before long. "Do you think it's going to rain?" I finally ask.

He shrugs. "I didn't think to look."

"Do you think ahead with _anything_?"

"Hey! I do! I thought a little spontaneity would be fun. Planning is not the end all and be all I'll have you know."

"Maybe… but I really don't like getting rained on…"

Duo laughs. An amazing laugh. It's just a fucking laugh! "Fear of needles… dislike of rain. You're a veritable girl, Wuffers. Or a needle-hating cat."

"I am not! My fears and dislikes are absolutely justifiable. And I'm not afraid of needles!" I add vehemently.

He laughs again. And I find myself accepting this because I want to hear him laugh. I _like _to hear him laugh. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He stares straight ahead, shoulders squared and open. Welcoming and threatening all at once. There is a vaguely contented look on his face- a faint smile, a forehead smooth and stress free. And I feel myself relaxing with it.

A breeze lifts his bangs, tousling them into his face. He tosses the hair from his eyes and then turns and catches me staring. Shit. I avert my gaze.

"What?"

"Just thinking."

I can see him grin out of my peripheral vision.

"Ah. I'm surprised you haven't asked me where we're going again."

Right. "So I'm asking it now."

"To the arcade."

I arch a brow. I'm a bit surprised he answers so readily after all of his secretive behavior on the subject. "The arcade?"

"Yes. I want to play laser tag."

"Laser tag?"

He laughs at me. "Are you my echo now, Wuffers? Yes. Laser tag. I hear it's fun. Like war, but less messy."

"Why do I get the feeling you just like to shoot things?" I ask.

Again he laughs, walking down the hill towards the town.

----

"Have you ever even _played_ laser tag?" I ask as we stare up at a brightly lit building, with a neon sign proclaiming 'Arcadamia.' I roll my eyes at the sheer cheesiness.

"I've never even been to an arcade. But it sounds fun. Come on."

I follow Duo in. The arcade is humid with body heat and crowded, semi-dark pierced with multicolored strobe lights. It smells of stale popcorn and slight body odor. It's also insanely noisy. Pings and bleeps, cheers of victory and groans of defeat. Bright titles flicker here, there, everywhere. Zombie Massacre. Kill the Messenger 3. Super Violent Motocross: Extreme Edition. Is this what the youth of the world wastes their time on? All this chaos is enough to give a man an epileptic fit- even if he had no signs of the condition before.

And looming off in the corner, in imposing red letters is Laser Conquest.

"I think that's it," Duo says, seizing my arm, and dragging me through the doors beneath the jarring signage.

"How did you find out about this place?"

"Looking around. Listening to what people say. Unlike you, I _like_ to go to town every once in a while. Being holed up at… _home_ gets really dull after a while. I _have_ to explore if I'm going to stay in one place longer than a week."

Inside the room, it looks severe and industrial. I suppose that adds to the effect of the game. There is a large octagonal desk jutting out from the wall across from us, where several employees are helping other customers such as ourselves. Overhead is a scoreboard with numbers that constantly change next to names listed under 'players'. Duo walks straight up to an empty spot at the desk.

"We'd like to play a game," he tells the girl sitting there.

She snaps her gum loudly, something I find truly annoying. "That'll be –_snap_- 12.50."

Her hair is dark like mine and piled messily on her head and she keeps leering at Duo through her black-rimmed glasses. Maybe she is not necessarily after him, but I don't like the way she looks at him. He is _mine!_ After all this grief I've gone through just to get him, even as pathetic as this set up is, there is no fucking way I'm going to share.

I nudge Duo out of the way. "I'll pay."

"Aw, Wuffers! How sweet!"

"Do you have to call me that in public?" I hiss.

"Doth the lady protest? You know I do it because it bothers you."

Yes. Yes I know.

The girl looks at the two of us as she takes my money. I think I hear her mutter something like 'it's always the cute ones.'

"Names?"

I open my mouth to reply, but Duo is faster. "We'll go by Wuffers and… DS." I glare at him, but the girl, looking amused, is already programming the laser guns with this information. Then she and one of her coworkers, a male, motion for us to follow her.

"DS?" I hiss.

"Deathscythe, of course."

And I get stuck with _Wuffers? _"I will seriously kill you."

He snorts.

"Have you ever –_snap-_ played before?" the girls asks.

Duo and I shake our heads. I nearly jump out of my skin when the guy starts fitting me with a vest. It's cumbersome and it smells like… I don't know what the hell the odor is, but it's unpleasant. I try not to rip the guy's head from his shoulders. He's just doing his job after all. Over his shoulder, Duo is snickering at me. I sigh.

The laser guns are crammed into my and Duo's hands.

"A game lasts fifteen minutes. Your objective is to shoot the others- their vests, obviously- and well, not get shot. If you get shot, your vest will vibrate and your gun will freeze up for 15 seconds. The one with the most successful shots wins."

"Wins what?" I ask.

The guy shrugs. "The game."

No shit.

The doors open and the game's previous players rush in a great wave from the room. Gamers press behind us, waiting impatiently to be let in. Duo squashes next to me, looking positively ecstatic.

"I'm not going to go easy on you, gimpy," he warns.

"If you did, I'd kill you in your sleep," is my reply. "As it is, I still probably will, for that slur."

He grins.

"Players!" shouts the snapping girl. "At the sound of the buzzer, the conquest –_snap_- begins! When the buzzer- _snap_- sounds a second time, the game will be over. Please exit in an orderly fashion."

"I am going to kill that girl."

"I'm hurt, Wuffers. That you would care for someone other than me so much as to threaten her life." Duo wipes away a fake tear.

I groan and roll my eyes. "You're impossible!"

"I know."

The small crowd we are in surges forward and we are separated.

I glance at the gun in my hand. I think I'm going to hate this laser game.

Hmm… Like war but less messy eh? I'm ashamed to say that I feel a malicious grin coming on.

Or maybe I could like it very much.


	22. Chapter 22

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: This chapter is tardy. It was extremely difficult to write (I rewrote it about 4 times before I felt halfway satisfied) and wouldn't let me upload the chapter for the past three days. Not sure why... But now, finally, it's here! This must be a good sign. ;-) I need a good sign. Ihave two competitions this weekend. Well, I promised this chapter would be a bit more exciting, but I don't really know if it is. I doubt it! But, anyway- enough of my incessant rambling! Enjoy!_

**Chapter 22:**

I am crouched behind a squat, oddly angled wall, out of breath, ignoring my throbbing ankle. I can hardly see by the black light that filters into the room. The only sounds are the shuffle of footsteps, a few shouts of surprise, and an occasional stifled chuckle. A soldier's playing field. I try to keep my battle instincts from kicking in. This is just a game. That's it. None of these fools are real soldiers (though some of them have sneaking capabilities that even Winner would be hard-pressed to beat).

Just a game. Just a game.

I see a body move. I whip out from my hiding place and fire. My victim swears and I lower my gun. Where is the blood? Why is he not on the ground, writhing in pain, in the throes of certain death?

Just a game. Oh … right.

This place is _crawling_ with the enemy so I must make my way through carefully. I have not been shot yet, but sometimes it's only my faster reflexes that save me. I slip along a wall, quiet as I can. These fucking people are everywhere!

The wall I am moving against ends in the middle of the room. I back up hesitantly, eyes darting to every dark corner, every looming shadow. I back up. That's where they will be, waiting to strike when my guard is down. I back up. I crash into a warm, solid form. Shit…

I am dead.

I jerk around. The next moment finds Duo's gun pressed into my chest, with mine on his. We stare at one another, wide-eyed, before exhaling loudly in unison.

Duo lowers his gun first. "Quite a game," he whispers. I can barely see the bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

I simply nod, lowering my own gun.

Just a game.

Footsteps echo around us. We exchange a look, a nod, and go our separate ways again. I search for the enemy who dares to approach. He is not hard to find. Christ, he should just wear a flashing beacon that screams 'here I am'. He is trying to sneak up on Duo. Heh. Even if I missed, the enemy would still be shot. No one sneaks up on us. I'd take him out with a well-placed strike, but he's armed.

I level my gun. I fire. My victim sighs and glances around hastily. In search of me?

What the hell is going on? Is my gun suddenly full of blanks?

There is a loud buzzer. Glaring white lights flicker on, blinding me and sending me crashing to my knees in complete shock. Around me there are moans of disappointment.

Just a game.

A hand grabs my arm. I open my eyes, blinking rapidly as they adjust to the light. Duo is hauling me to my feet. His face is ashen. I imagine mine is too.

"How's your foot?" he asks as we make our way towards the exit.

"My foot?" I shake my head, trying to regain my senses. That was not war. That was a game. A game. I take a deep breath and I am ashamed as it shudders through me. "It's fine."

"That was intense, huh?"

Fucking understatement of the millennium.

We are silent as the gum-snapping girl and her male coworker strip our vests and apprehend our guns. I am covered in sweat. I look at Duo and it appears that he is too. We exchange glances. He grins, but it is a slightly pained one. It wasn't really a game for us.

"Shall we go see who won?" Duo asks, coming over to me.

"You think there is any contest?" I mutter, wending my way through the crowd after him over to the scoreboard.

He grins again. "I meant you or me."

I can't help but smirk. "Again, you think there is any contest?"

He snorts in offense. "We'll see."

I glance up at the scoreboard. The scores have finished tabulating. I blink in surprise.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen!" Duo crows, elbowing me sharply in the ribs.

I hiss in pain.

"Ooh… sorry Wufei."

I look at the scoreboard again. Neither of us had been hit, but Duo beat my score by four shots. "What were you doing? Firing blindly?"

He snorted. "Just admit I'm the better sharpshooter."

"You wish."

"I already _know_." He pauses and tilts his head towards the crowd.

I listen too. And amidst the dull roar of idle chatter, I hear people commenting on our scores. They seem awestruck, disbelieving, or annoyed, depending on the voice to which I pay attention. One voice even mentions that they want to find out our identities. Duo and I exchange glances. With a subtle jerk of my head, we casually make our way to the back of the crowd and out the door before inquiries can be further made. Apparently, we played too well for beginners. No need for them to find that out.

Duo exhales loudly the moment we reentered the main arcade. "Well… that was different than I expected."

I arch a brow. "Oh? What did you expect?"

"That it'd be more fun. You know, instead of…"

"The Mission From Hell?"

"That about sums it up." He glances about the madness that surrounds us. "You want to leave? I'm sort of… arcaded out."

I have to agree. Arcades are probably going to end up on the top-ten list of places I never want to go again. Once I start said list.

Outside was blessedly quiet, save for occasional crashes of thunder. The streets were basically empty for the night. Or so I thought that was the reason until I felt it- a cold drop of rain, on the top of my head. My reaction must have been humorous, for Duo looks at me, laughing as he asks what's wrong.

"You don't-" I flinch again as another drop attacks. I glare warningly at the cloudy sky overhead. "You don't feel it?"

He looks up as well. "Feel-" And _he_ flinches this time. I hope that raindrop fell in his eye. "Ah. That. It's just a bit of rain, Wuffers. It isn't going to _bite_ you. Anyway, it's barely dripping. We'll have plenty of time to reach the safehouse before it gets out of hand."

Not even two minutes later, the clouds above seem to literally explode. Rain dumps upon us in heavy, stinging drops.

"Plenty of time, huh?" I shout over the sound of pouring rain.

"Well what did you expect! I'm not a weatherman!" is his response. He has taken on the drowned rat appearance again.

"Doesn't this get heavy?" I ask, seizing Duo's sopping braid without much thought. The hair guy quivers in anticipation. I wish I could separate the hair guy from me, just so I could have the sick pleasure of killing the fucking bastard.

Duo yelps, seizing the back of his head. I allow myself a snicker. "Warn a man when you're going to grab parts of his body!"

"Duo!" I yell. My god… he has to say things like that, doesn't he? Just to get his damned digs in.

He grins, victorious _yet_ again. "Anyway… no, I've gotten pretty used to it." He seizes his hair from my palm and makes a futile attempt to wring the water from it. And I watch. The hair guy is silent. But then, this _is_ Duo's hair. With a sigh, he tosses it back over his shoulder and I hear it hit his back with a wet _slap_.

The hair guy and I sigh as well.

Duo arches a brow and smirks. "I'm beginning to think you only like me for this incredible hair of mine."

I grumble an incoherent answer. And apparently this is funny because he laughs so hard he snorts. What is it that I do that he thinks is so fucking hilarious?

He then holds out the end of his braid. "Here," he says between snickers. "Hold onto this, if it'll make you feel better." Another laugh. "You poor baby."

I scowl but I seize his braid anyway. After all, this is _me_ we're talking about. Can I really expect any different from myself? No. "No more laughing at me. I have your hair hostage. I could easily be inclined to pull it out."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would!" But I know the threat is an empty one. Apparently, he knows this as well, because he laughs at me again.

"Too funny, Wuffers. You're just too funny." He yelps when I yank his hair. "Christ! Okay, okay, no more laughing at you."

I smirk again. The hand that grips his braid ends up loosely on his hip. He doesn't say anything either way. I don't know if he notices. So I don't comment either.

We walk in silence for several minutes with only the sound of pouring rain to entertain us. I take a moment to look at Duo. His head is tilted back some, eyes half closed. Again, he looks content. In this damned rain, he looks content. How is that possible?

"You like the rain?"

He looks at me with one eye and grins, shrugging slightly. "I don't mind it."

I make a futile attempt to wipe the water from my face. "Why?"

"Why not? It's unplanned. It's nice."

I am beginning to think that spontaneity strikes a chord within him. Perhaps that's something I ought to log away for future use.

"Home sweet home. Now the big baby can get out of the rain," Duo says. I can hear the grin in his voice, even if he doesn't show it.

"Oh shut up." I look up. The safehouse is in sight. I frown slightly. It's nearly over. I'm surprised to find myself admitting that I wish it wasn't over yet. Certainly, the game of laser tag was more intense than either of us liked, but… I guess I had fun. I certainly don't look forward to being stuck in the safehouse with nothing but my thoughts to entertain me.

I release his wet hair as he climbs the crumbling steps to the safehouse. Kicking sodden shoes into a heap outside the door, we enter a dark, relatively quiet room.

"They must've gone to bed early."

In the living room, there is a flicker of bluish light on the dark wall. Someone is up, probably watching the news from the few phrases I hear. Whoever it is doesn't bother to greet us. Not that I care.

"Ah. Or not."

We squish down a silent hall.

"I'm going to change." Duo stops next to his 'Forget the Dog' sign. "So… what time should we leave in the morning?"

"Huh?" Leave? Why?

He grins. "Spacing out again? I'm talking about for the mission."

"Oh. Right." Clearly, my mind is not on any mission.

He likes spontaneity.

"I'm game for whenever… as long as I have a couple hours of sleep. So?" he prompts.

I could try to be spontaneous. I've done it before. It can't be that hard to do again… Then I realize he's still waiting for my answer. "Um… I'd say around… 0600 hours." I fumble stupidly over the words. My god, I hate this…

"Sounds good enough to me. Night, Wuffers."

Wait!

I seize his shoulder as he turns from me and pin him to the wall, crushing my mouth to his. Cold like mine. I hear him make a startled noise. Is this spontaneous enough for you? Then he chuckles. The feeling of it sends a shiver down my spine. I want him to do it again. Instead, he returns the kiss with force. Not what I expected. But hell, I can live with that.

And without warning, he ducks out of it. I don't really become aware of it until my face crashes onto the wall where he once stood. My eyes cross for a moment and my nose starts to throb almost immediately.

"See you in the morning, Wufei."

And he disappears into his room. I groan and slam my fist on the wall, relishing the shock of pain that shoots through my hand. It brings a sense of clarity to my head. Dammit! Just what the fuck was that?


	23. Chapter 23

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 23:**

Despite my overall loathing of evil known as 'morning', if I _must_ wake up at an unreasonable hour I can do so without the aid of an alarm. I bitterly blame it on a well-conditioned internal clock that was more or less beaten into the skull of every member of the Dragon clan. It's dead useful. But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.

With several muttered curses to the morning under my breath (the damned sun isn't even up yet), I clamber gracelessly out of bed and trudge over to my cabinet where I spent several hours last night carefully refolding everything the a certain _someone_ flung all over the fucking room. All because thoughts of a certain _someone_ kept me up all damned night. His initials are Duo-fucking-Maxwell.

After dressing, brushing my hair into a tight tail, and brushing my teeth, I stalk from my room, down the hall, into the kitchen. Duo is already up and ready, with a steaming cup of black coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other, with a soggy bowl of cereal sitting before him. Disgusting cereal. He looks up at me, swatting damp strands of hair from his eyes.

"Morning," he grouches.

So it's true. He is no more a morning person than I am.

I simply grunt in reply. The speech function in my brain has yet to fully awaken. Even the hair guy is still groggy- there is only the fleeting desire to touch that damp braid dangling over the back of the rickety wooden dining chair. It's not until I have a cup of hot tea in my hands that my brain becomes fully functional.

"Anything interesting?" I ask, sitting next to Duo.

"Mm… not really," he replies around a mouthful of cereal. The paper in his hand rattles and he peers at me over it. "Just the usual proclamations that we are harbingers of doom and that only full support of OZ will help stop us." He smirks and disappears behind the paper again. "And some famous designer is having a show in Prague."

I arch a brow, staring at the back of his paper. "I care about that bit because…?"

"Because I know you love your fashion," he lisps.

I smack the back of the paper and sigh in satisfaction when he jumps, startled.

"Anyway… It looks like it's sponsored by the Global Committee For a Better World… a.k.a. the aggressively anti-Gundam society. Kind of interesting, eh?"

I harrumph. Those peace-thumping weaklings.

"Awww, does wittle Wuffers want to go?"

"No," I grouch. "And don't you get tired of calling me _Wuffers_?"

"I told you. I only do it because you react so violently to it." He sighs tremendously. "But I suppose I _could_ come up with something else." He lowers his paper to look at me. The manic grin that I see plastered on his face worries me. A lot.

"Er, forget it…"

Duo strokes his chin with his thumb and forefinger, reminiscent of a stereotypical mad scientist. "Let's see…"

"I said forget it!"

"Oh no. You can't stop what's been started. Wupii."

I groan, slumping back into my chair.

"No, that doesn't suit you at all. How about Wu-tang…? Wu-fan? Or the Wudinator?"

Wudinator? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

He starts to chuckle. And, with that as my warning, I know it can only get worse. "Maybe Boo-fei. How about Fei-fei or Fei-kins? No… that's a bit fairytale even for you." He grins when I glare at him. "Then do you like Wu-bear? Wupin? Perhaps Wubbles is a better choice?"

Wubbles? I choke on a mouthful of my tea. That sounds like some asinine cartoon character.

"Or Wuffles. No, wait!" He holds up a hand hastily, eyes shining. "_Waffles!_"

"_Waffles?_" I stare at him. Where they hell does he get Waffles from _my_ name?

"Do you like Waffles?" he asks innocently.

"_No!_" I yelp.

"But _everyone_ loves Waffles." He grins insanely.

"_I_ don't! If you call me Waffles or anything remotely similar, I will kill you!"

"Waffles it is."

"Duo!"

He shakes his head. "This is your fault you know. You could've kept quiet about Wuffers. I would've never thought of Waffles. Well, not for a few more weeks, anyway."

I groan again, defeated. His laughter penetrates the morning air. What a price to pay. I hear a laugh I _need_ to hear… at my own fucking expense. I sip at my tea as vehemently as possible, which is a mean feat in and of itself. This only brings out more laughter.

"I'm ready whenever you are. Waffles." He sputters and snickers again, shaking his head. "_Waffles!_"

"Watch it. I may just be inclined to pour this hot tea down your pants."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. These goods are irreplaceable!" He points at his lap. I ignore that comment. "Besides…" He gives his mug a gentle shake. "I could just as easily retaliate with this hot coffee."

Touché.

----

We leave at separate times. Less suspicious that way. I'd been in flight for about an hour when Duo gave me the signal that he had finally left as well. I glance back at the shuttle's compartment door behind me, behind which my Gundam rests. It's unlikely that I'll need her. But, as a soldier, I must always be prepared. One can never be too prepared, if you ask me. Besides, though it's truly embarrassing to admit, it's comforting to know Nataku is back there.

It's been a few hours now; I can't be bothered to figure out exactly how long I've been in flight at the moment. I peer out the window of my commandeered shuttle. I'm so high up, that vehicles have all disappeared on the thin threads of asphalt that tear apart half-dead landscape that was once, a long, long, _long_ time ago, alive and free of this modernization. I can't even _begin_ to imagine a world where this life doesn't exist. It's a way of life that is kind of disgusting, really.

At strategic points, I can see mobile suits- all belonging to OZ, of course- guarding entrances or exits, patrolling, threatening, providing a false sense of security. Controlling. With a scowl, I thrust myself back in the severe pilot's seat. Those bastards. And the fools who believe them…

I'm busy thinking angry thoughts towards our enemy when a voice rips me back into reality.

"Quatre was lying, you know."

It takes me several seconds to regain my bearings. And to realize that it was Duo speaking. "What?" I say stupidly.

"About this… trip. He was lying."

I sigh. Well, of course. "I guessed that much. He fidgets when he lies." There is a laugh on Duo's end. "I just couldn't figure out why. So I didn't say anything to him."

"You couldn't figure out why? I thought it was pretty obvious myself."

When he doesn't continue, I say impatiently, "Well?" I'm starting to think he does things like that on purpose.

"He's trying to play matchmaker."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, _I_ figure that the mission was either for me and him or you and him. The doctors have never sent missions to the wrong person _before_, so why would they now?" There is a pause and then he exhales loudly. "So! I figure that, being the kind-hearted soul he is, he thought he'd pair the two of _us_ up together instead. I assume you got the 'figure out where you two are going' speech from him, too?"

"Yes," I say dully.

"Well, I figure he got tired of your failed attempts at seducing me, so he had to-"

My nostrils flare. He can't see it, of course, but I know they do. "Excuse me?"

There is a pause on his end. "Uh… you're excused? What?" He sounds confused.

"My failed attempts at _seducing _you?"

Another pause. "Oh. Well… yeah. I mean, I can give you credit for _trying_, but-"

"Why do you _think_ they fail?" I shout. When he doesn't answer, I continue to rant. "It's because _you_ keep pulling out on me! How can anyone be successful when you keep on fucking with my head like that?"

A loud snort crackles with static and makes my ears ring. "I do not!" Duo retorts. My, but he sounds indignant.

"You do! Have you not paid attention to yourself!" Dammit, how can he be so blind?

The silence afterwards is so long, I think he's given up on the conversation. I'm proven wrong when a static filled sigh reaches my ears.

"Well, I don't do it on purpose… not usually"

I roll my eyes. Which means he sometimes _does_ it on purpose… This is not really good for a man's ego. "Not usually, eh?" I grind out. He doesn't reply to this.

And I can't believe I'm _having_ this fucking conversation.

"Can I guess what you're thinking?" he asks after the moment of uncomfortable silence passes.

"Why you're still talking?" I grumble.

"That's awfully harsh, Waffles."

I growl menacingly. But he just chuckles. As usual. "We shouldn't be talking so much," I say severely. "Someone could have foolishly stumbled upon this frequency. They could be listening."

"What will they hear? Two guys lusting after one another?"

I can _hear_ that grin in his voice. "Just one, you mean," I mutter under my breath.

"What?"

"Nothing…"

"I don't believe you." But he doesn't press on about it. "Well, if that doesn't scare them off, this will."

Oh shit….

There is the sound of someone taking a deep breath- Duo, clearly, since it isn't me. Then an impossibly loud shout. "_Waffles, I want you to have my baby!_"

"What the _fuck?_" I yell.

He starts laughing hysterically. Part of me wonders if a person can explode from sheer force of a laugh. If anyone could do it, I'm sure it would be Duo.

This goes on for literally five minutes.

"Why the hell did you yell that?" I yelp the moment it sounds like his laughter is dying down.

"Because- Because-! _Pffffft_!" And the laughter returns in full force.

"I'm not having your baby. It's anatomically and scientifically impossible."

There is a choking sound and, amidst even _more_ laughter, Duo manages to squeak out: "Oh Christ… You're killing me, Wufei! I can't breathe!"

"Then stop laughing!"

This, of course, just makes him laugh even more. And for the next several minutes, I am subject to the sound of laughter peppered with wheezing gasps for air and the occasional snort.

"Are you finished?"

"Mm, almost." He chuckles a bit more and then takes a deep breath and… stops. "Yeah. Done." There is a moment of silence on his end before he says, "How much further do you have?"

I glance out my window to the world below. "I should be arriving in about… twenty minutes." I start scanning the ground for the location of our temporary safehouse, in a wooded area just outside Old Birmingham. I feel the soldier in me awakening, heightening my awareness. About ten minutes later, I am not so comfortable flying over Old Birmingham. Activating the shuttle's sensors, I am able to confirm what I thought. There is an unusually large concentration of active mobile suits in the city below. I swear under my breath. A guard unit would be normal. After all, they _do _have a mobile suite factory in the works down there. Anyone with a brain would realize that we Gundam pilots could attack, should we find out about it. But this is more. They aren't just expecting us. They're _expecting_ us.


	24. Chapter 24

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Many apologies for the tardiness of this chapter! I was away at Irish dance camp for a week, so there was no time to write (nor access to a computer!). Alas, this will get better, I promise!_

**Chapter 24:**

I resist the urge to strafe Old Birmingham. Instead I adjust my course to fly about fifty miles around the eastern half of the city. Good thing, I suppose, because there are more than just OZ soldiers living down there. Previously, I had instructed Duo to head at least fifty miles outside the western half, to avoid as much suspicion as possible.

The fact that they are so prepared for us is not a positive sign. It leaves me with many questions. Do they expect the both of us or just one? How soon? _How_ could they know? Is this a trap? Or just convenient timing? The only thing I am certain of is that they expect our Gundams to actually show up. That is clear by the sheer numbers manning the base.

So perhaps using the Gundam is not the way to go. I sit back in my seat, thoughtful now. Maybe all hope _isn't_ lost. I continue along that vein of thought through the end of my trip, storing Nataku beneath a camouflage net in the wooded area surrounding the safehouse after I land, and while making a long trek to said safehouse.

It's a dilapidated shack, complete with graying wooden siding and plenty of loose and rotting floorboards. And that's just what I can see on the outside. It looks like a sudden gust of wind could do it in.

Sadly, I've bunked in worse.

Carefully, I climb the small set of stairs to the front porch. The boards shift and groan under my weight. And this is only with me here. Naturally, I'm a bit concerned. Is the floor going to hold with both Duo and me and the meager belongings between us?

I go through the door, ducking beneath a swath of cobwebs. It's best to keep this house looking as though no one lived in it. To be honest, I can't vouch that those webs are even real- the mad doctors do everything in their power to keep us from being found. The safehouse itself smells of age, dust, and mold. Light filters dimly through grimy windows, giving the safehouse a dingy, gloomy feeling.

I make tracks to a tiny cramped kitchen, where a skinny refrigerator is crammed in one corner and a nearly ancient stove is stuffed between a countertop and a sink directly across from it. I test the room out, checking the stove and fridge for power, the lights for functionality, and the sink for safe, preferably clear water. Everything checks out well enough. I stow some spare food in the refrigerator and set to boiling some rice in a dented little pot I found in one of the nearly empty cabinets. It won't be proper rice, but it will do. I'm starving. And I'm certain Duo will be the same.

About two hours have passed and I'm analyzing familiar articles in an old newspaper that is yellowing around the edges, sitting on a moth-eaten sofa. Broken springs stab uncomfortably into my back, trying to dig holes into my skin.

There is the click of a door closing behind me. I turn, training a gun over the sofa on the entryway. In walks Duo. His hair is tangled with leaves and tiny twigs. He jumps in surprise when he looks up and spots me.

"Easy, it's just me."

"Well, obviously." I lower my gun

"Then why the gun?" he asks, wincing as he pulls some twigs from his hair.

"You can't be too certain."

"I'm glad you don't have a twitchy trigger finger then." He scowls, carefully pulling strands of hair off one twig. "Damn sticks…"

The hair guy considers this a perfect opportunity. I motion for Duo to sit on the ground in front of me. It takes him no more than a second to guess my intentions.

"Don't pull," he warns me, sitting down.

I grunt at his comment. I'm too distracted by the fact that I have this access to his hair.

Honestly… I need to get a fucking life.

Gingerly, I grab a twig and begin to unwind the hair from it, one strand at a time. "How the hell did you manage this? Did you fall?"

"Okay, no." He sounds offended. I supposed he has the right to it. "I had to repair my camouflage net. Which is why I was late. Are you actually doing anything or just admiring my messy, leafy hair?"

As a response, I hand him the twig I just freed and get to work on another.

"Wow… Even _I_ can't do it without pulling out a few strands."

"It is because you're impatient."

"And that's a crime?"

I roll my eyes and jab his shoulder roughly. After a few minutes of silence, and a growing pile of tiny twigs and broken leaves at my side, he sighs deeply and relaxes against my knees. His head droops slightly. I guess he's fallen asleep. It must be relaxing for him to have someone work on his hair as I am. Doesn't bother me. I get the thrill of touching his hair, the soothing monotony of piecing apart strand after strand from the miniscule bits of wood, and the comfortable silence of his company.

"What's the plan?"

The sound of his voice startles me out of my rhythm and I end up yanking hard on the few strands of hair in my hand. He yelps loudly, clamping his hand on his head, further entangling the final two or three bits of debris into his hair.

"What was that?" I ask, shoving his hands from his hair. "Stop that, you're making it worse."

"When you are careful, you're careful, but when you pull- _man!_ – you pull _hard!_"

"Sorry," I mutter, picking up the bit of hair-twined wood again. "But what did you say?"

"How are we going to complete the mission? Any ideas from you? From what you told me, waltzing in sporting full Gundam battle gear is not exactly the way to go."

Oh _right_. That is why we're here. Destroy the OZ mobile suit factory. Not play with Duo's hair. I mentally scowl at myself. He glances at me over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'll need you to hack into their systems to see if you can find their blueprints, work schedules, anything. I'm going to head out to Old Birmingham to find a good vantage point for observation."

"So you're planning this like an inside job?"

I nod. "I need work schedules to determine when the best time to enter would be."

"What about the graveyard shift? My bet is that they have a guard cycling all day, everyday. Assuming I'm right, and assuming they make a change in the middle of the night, we can slip in then, relatively unnoticed. After all, who's really paying attention at that hour anyway?"

"They _could_ be. After all, they're expecting us."

He pointed a finger at me. "No, they're expecting Gundams. We're Frank Greene and Tan wu Bei."

"Bei Tan wu, if you're going to be Chinese about it." I purse my lips in a frown. "You make a good point though." He beams. I study him for a moment, before stupidly pointing out, "You don't look like a Frank, though. And who is going to believe I am Tan wu?"

He laughs at this comment. "Hey, it's Chinese, isn't it? Who'd believe your name is Wufei?" He pauses for a moment. "Well then… shall we go as Betsy and Maria instead?"

"You deserve to have your head lopped off by Nataku," I mutter as I return to removing the final twigs from his hair.

He laughs once again. "Ouch- that was harsh, Waffles. Love you too."

My stomach flops over like a dead dog. Oh, for certain it was just a sarcastic quip with no _actual _meaning behind it. After all, I'm no fool. Or so I tell myself. I simply _want_ to hear actual meaning behind it.

I pull the final twig from his hair and push him away. "Done. Get to hacking. I'll head into town. I'll be back before sundown, hopefully with some uniforms and we can get to planning."

He gives me a nod and busies himself with his small duffel. I grab a set of dusty keys from an equally dusty key rack next to the door and leave, feeling very awkward as I do so.

----

It's pretty fucking convenient how this town is set up. For, right across the factory is a dumpy little café where local college students like to congregate. Where local college students spend _hours_ on end, either studying, or gossiping like chickens with their friends. Who in their right mind puts a café across the street from a factory? But I'm not going to argue with it. It's the perfect setting for me to sit around and observe what goes on under the cover of a book, a pair of reading glasses, a notepad, and a cup of tea that I sip only every once in a while.

I am forced to admit- at least mentally- that I am going out of my mind with boredom. I've read this book at least three times so I could recite it to an audience, the tea is slightly cold and unappealing, and there isn't much going on across the street except the occasional comings and goings of uniformed employees. I wish, for perhaps the hundredth time, that I had dragged Duo along for, if anything, the company. Or the stupid jokes. Or… oh hell… just to look at him. Which would distract me from the purpose of my being parked here- to observe the factory. Which basically brings me back to square one.

I watch as a woman and a man, dressed in what I've come to recognize as the factory's security uniforms head through the front doors, nodding at a pair of guards flanking either side. The men nod at the two newcomers and follow them inside. Time for a security change. I jot down this information, next to a brief description of the uniforms, and various other observations I had made in the past hour and a half I'd been here.

"Studying hard?"

I glance up, biting back a scowl as the waitress bothers me _yet _again. She's not a terrible person really- a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair piled on her head, and a pleasant, if not slightly homely face. But she has this incessant habit of pestering me. I guess it's her job. She probably lives off her tips and here I am occupying a space that better paying customers could be using.

I nod, waving my book slightly. "Big exam coming up."

She smiles in a motherly sort of way. "Good luck. Need any more tea?"

"That would be great." Anything to get her out of my hair.

"I'll be right out with it."

I hold up a hand to stop her. "Wait… might I have the time?"

She glances at her wristwatch. "4:38."

I suppose I've been here long enough. "Mind making that tea to go then?"

She smiles as if she knows something. "Certainly. I'll be right back."

I glance down at my notes again. If Duo found anything useful, we could move in tonight. The waitress returns with my tea, which I promptly pay for, offer a tip, and then make my way to down the street in a lazy sort of way as I contact Duo.

"'Lo?" It sounds as though his mouth is full.

"Are you eating?"

There is a spitting sound. "No. Just had a pen between my teeth. Any luck?"

"A bit. You?"

"Found some interesting things. I reckon if you're up for a late night party, it could happen tonight."

"Mm. Right then. I'll see what I can do about getting us proper attire."

There is a pause on the other end. I frown.

"Are you still there?"

"Oh. Yes. Try going around five."

"Right." It makes sense. The most chaos will be at closing time.

There is a sigh. "And… be careful, okay?"

"I will," I say, irritated by his insinuations.

He laughs slightly. "No offense meant. You've just… attracted a lot of trouble lately. I'm not going to be close enough to play white knight."

I scowl. "I'll be fine, thank you very much. I'll call you on my way back to confirm my success."

Again, he laughs. "All right." And I think I hear him mutter something about a married couple. "Later." And there is the buzz of a ring tone.

I slip my phone into my pocket, casually making my way around the block, where I stop at a small sports shop and buy a duffel bag and a few other things that make it look as though I'm an athlete but also will come in handy when I infiltrate the factory both now and later tonight. The plan: sneak in, apprehend a pair of uniforms, sneak back out. Oh yes… and as Duo reminded: Don't get caught.


	25. Chapter 25

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Parts of this chapter have been revised as of 11-4-06._

**Chapter 25:**

Getting into this so-called 'auto parts' factory was easy enough to insult my intelligence. I mean… squeezing through a broken fence and walking in through the unguarded back door doesn't offer any sort of challenge one might expect from a secret OZ manufacturing base. This makes me wonder if Winner had been lying about the entire thing and this actually _was _an auto parts factory. I don't _think _he'd lie about the existence of an actual mission. That is far too risky. And I'm sure he knows I would destroy him if he did.

With a nondescript ball cap pulled low over my glasses, I slip through the bustle of employees eager to go home, occasionally jostled, but otherwise unnoticed. After a few minutes of keen observation, I discovered the location of the main office. Settling into a dark corner behind a broken down printer with a clear view of the office and the front exit, I watch and I wait. The flow of employees out the door steadily lessens until an occasional straggler races by my hiding spot only every three to five minutes. And I wait.

Fifteen minutes pass since the last employee bolted out the door. I glance at my watch. 5:40. I'll give it another fifteen minutes before I try anything. It would do no good for me to get through to the office, only to be caught by some overzealous manager putting in beaucoup hours of overtime.

All main lights flicker off simultaneously. Shop is closed.

Another uneventful fifteen minutes pass. Everyone must've gone home on time today. Not that I'm complaining.

I crawl out of my hiding spot and my knees twinge from being crouched so long. I stagger to my feet, looping the small duffle I picked up at the sporting goods store over my shoulder, and I pull a lock pick out of my hair. Taking one last glance around the floor, I begin my work on the door. The lock clicks open gently after a minute or so of careful fiddling. I take this moment to stop cast one final glance around to make sure no one is in the vicinity. Having gotten this far, a straggling employee would be my undoing. And I've been 'undone' enough in the past few weeks to last me a fucking lifetime.

Door unlocked, I could now enter the main office. I enter quickly, just in case I was wrong about everyone having left, but I needn't have spared the effort. It's empty and completely silent, save for the gentle hum of a couple computers on standby. I lock the door behind me. Then, setting the duffle on a cluttered desk, I pull out a couple of small black canvas storage bags, identical in color and texture to the duffle. I then begin to peruse the office. There is a large, metal cabinet on the wall across from me. Hastily, I make my way over and tug on the chrome handles. Locked. But not for long. After a little work with my lock pick, I find myself staring at shelves of office supplies and boxes of what end up being nonsensical printouts for supplies and shipping instructions and the like. I glare at the contents in the cabinet, pulling out box after box in search of uniforms, only to be disappointed when I find more papers and office supplies.

Who needs all this fucking _tape_!?

Shoving the damned useless boxes into the cabinet again, I lock it back up and glance around the office in search of something that will point me in the right direction of procuring uniforms. Worst comes to worse, Duo and I will have to strip the uniforms from the incoming guards we'll likely have to take out on our way in tonight. The problem with that is it is unlikely the uniforms will actually fit us. That is just the way it works- the more one needs something, the less likely one will get it.

There are several packing boxes stacked around the room some neat, some haphazard. I figure the neat ones are either important documents or other items that can be damaged if they are smacked around. I'm tempted to destroy the contents of those boxes, but now is not the time. I am here for one thing, and one thing only. So I turn to the haphazard boxes and begin to search through them.

I work for about half an hour, moving as quickly and as quietly as I can. And still there are no uniforms. What the hell does it take to get something from these bastards!? I shove a stack of boxes away and pull over another. Here goes. This _has _to be it.

Carefully I peel back the tape. I bite back a shout of frustration at what I see. And I don't get frustrated easily. If I find one more fucking box of packs of fucking computer paper, I swear on Nataku I'll…

The uniforms! I see the sleeve of one sticking out of the box beneath the one I'm currently looking in. I shove my box aside and haul out the uniforms. It takes me about fifteen minutes to sort through the crisp black shirts, black caps, and gray slacks in search of a size that would fit me and one that I assume would fit Duo, but it doesn't bother me. My mission is a success. It's about time.

Grabbing the canvas storage bags, I carefully fold the uniforms, just as carefully put each into a bag, and stow it securely at the very bottom of my duffle. To one who didn't know what to look for, it just looks like the bottom of the bag. Perfect. Stuffing the boxes where I found them, I am now ready to leave.

Finally.

Cracking the door slightly, I peer out. Not a soul around. I swing the duffle over my shoulder and poke my head out the door, checking now for anyone who might be coming around the corner. No one. It's irresponsible to have this much vacancy within a mobile suit manufacturing facility.

How can OZ survive under such incompetence?

With a nod of satisfaction, I slip from the office, closing the door quietly behind me.

Crouching against the wall, I ease my way towards the exit. Down this hall, around that corner to another hall, through the very corner of the main factory itself, out the door.

Simple.

I hear the slam of a door somewhere behind me. Swearing under my breath, I duck into the nearest room, which turns out to be a men's restroom. Leaning against the adjacent wall, I listen hard, forcing the pounding of my heart to subside. I hear voices, though I can't make out what's being said, and then another door slams. Silence ensues. I wait for further reaction, calming myself as I do so. Panic invites mistakes. I cannot afford any mistakes this early in the mission.

However, no one enters the restroom.

I open the door to peer out. The main factory is empty. I can see the back exit from here. Taking a deep breath, I ease out of the restroom and, after a quick look around, I make my way towards the exit.

A hand clamps heavily on my shoulder. Immediately I am grateful that I had, by chance, ducked into the men's restroom, and not the women's. I do my best to fake a cringe.

"Oy! Where do you think you're going?" demands a male's voice.

Why me? Why always fucking _me!?_

I turn, forcing my eyes wide. The man who caught me is more wiry and smaller than I expect. He glares at me in a way that I assume is supposed to intimidate me.

"What's your name, kid?" he grumbles.

I pause. "Er… Benji," I invent wildly.

"Hand over the bag, Benji." He holds out a hand and, after a moment's hesitation, I hand the duffel to him. Dropping it to the ground, he crouches beside it and begins pulling out the contents within. Jockstrap, cleats that I carefully made filthy before entering this factory, shin guards, notebook, paperback book… he pauses when he pulls out my laptop. He flips up the screen, turns it on, and scowls at what he sees. Standing, he looks at me and then points to the machine. "Log in."

I do as he says, though he doesn't know that there are two different passwords on this laptop. A fake one for times, like now, when it might get confiscated, and the real one that will give the user (me) access to all the files that OZ would love to get their lying hands on. Most don't question the possibility existence of another user access.

OZ really needs to improve upon the training of their scurrying minions.

The guard shoves me aside and begins perusing the files. I purse my lips, watching him. All he's going to find are things like old homework assignments, a list of fake phone numbers, emails from an overprotective 'mom', a bit of pornography- ask the doctors. He slams the laptop shut gracelessly and stands, eyeing me suspiciously.

"All right kid, what are you doing in here? We're closed and besides, access to this factory is for employees only."

I sigh, glancing askance. "Just a dare, man," I mutter, careful to adopt an accent similar to his. I crouch down and begin to repack the bag.

"Dare, eh?" He gives me a shrewd look. "What sort of dare?"

This peon is going to make me work for my freedom, eh? I give a loud sigh, sounding very put off by the question, as if he ought to know the answer. I am, actually, but for different reasons. "What the bloody hell do you think? Write my name on the wall, o' course. You kind of caught me as I was changing my mind."

"Write your name on the wall? Ha! There is no pen," he counters.

Again, I offer a loud sigh, complete with a grand show of rolling my eyes. The stereotypical apathetic youth. "I wasn't going to _use_ a pen."

He eyes me again and his expression becomes knowing. "Oh," he mutters. "_Oh_." Grabbing my shoulder and shoving the duffel in my hand, he guides me forcefully towards the back exit. "Come back again and I'll have you arrested, kid."

"Oy, sorry, man. Chill out. Won't happen again, man," I say, stumbling out the door.

How many times can Wufei say 'man' in one minute? I'm going to have to scour this entire conversation from my brain. It's rapidly bringing down my IQ as I continue to think about it.

"Make sure that it doesn't." The door slams behind me.

"I will do that," I mutter. I march away from the factory, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I go. It's nearly 7:30. I pull a face. That took far longer than I'd intended.

Duo answers on the second ring. "Hello?" Casual. Innocent.

Perfect.

Dammit.

"I'm out."

There is an explosion of breath on the other side and I have to hold the phone away from my ear for a moment. "_Finally!_ What took so freaking long!? You had me worried, you bastard. I thought you'd been caught!"

"I was."

"_Again_? Christ, this doesn't bode well for the mission if you're getting caught this early on. Waffles, do you need to go through training again? What are you doing, man? Walking around in a neon green pantsuit?"

"Of course not!" I snap. "And what did I tell you about that damned nickname?!"

"That you absolutely love it and find it _so _endearing?"

"No. And you're absolutely mad."

"Yes. Yes I am." I can _hear_ his grin. "But at least _I _can admit it."

I roll my eyes, though he can't see it. I'm pretty sure he has enough imagination to know I'm doing it though. "Got a map?"

"Yep. And a plan. Along with a few back ups. And the two guys we're going to meet along the way. So hurry up and come home."

"I'm on my way now," I say, crossing the street to the lot where I parked the car the doctors left us. Jamming my hand into a pocket, I pull out the keys and climb in, tossing the duffel into the back seat. "I should be back in about… half an hour."

"Okay." He snickers suddenly. "Now this time, _try _not to get caught."

"Goddammit Duo, give me _some_ credit!"

"I have. And you keep letting me down." He 'tsks'. "I'm very disappointed in you, Waffles. See you in half an hour!" And then he hangs up before I can retort.

I scowl in irritation, cramming the phone back into my pocket, but I feel very stupidly warm. He'd been worried. About me.


	26. Chapter 26

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 26:**

My return trip to the safehouse is uneventful. I make sure to travel at the appropriate speed limits- I don't want to get pulled over and thusly have _another_ reason why Duo can roar with laughter at me. _And _my apparent incompetence as a soldier.

I park the car in some overgrown brush and head into the decrepit safehouse. The moment I walk in the door, Duo is on me, grabbing the duffel out of my hand and dumping it on the floor. By the time I've regained my bearings, he has the duffel's contents scattered everywhere and is already opening the bags containing the uniforms.

"What is all this?" He gestures to the sports gear on the floor.

"Cover."

"That's a lot of cover." He glances through it again and nods after a moment. "But good cover." He examines the uniforms, each in turn. "Okay. You scare me, Waffles. This is exactly my size." He holds up a pair of gray slacks and grins wolfishly at me. "I didn't know I was such an enticing specimen to look at."

"I have a good memory. I _did_ wear your clothes, if you recall. Yesterday, in fact."

"Well sure, if you care about the details. I like my theory better." He winks at me before hauling his shirt up over his head. Like a fool, I stare. Amid old white scarring that I hadn't noticed before, a few pink scars lacerate his back and arms and there is a long one down his side- recently procured battle 'trophies', if you will. I imagine I look just as abused. I don't get to stare for long, however, because he slips on the uniform shirt over the braid and buttons the collar high.

Damn him.

He dons the hat and a scowl. "Do I look like security?" he asks in a low, rumbling voice.

Goosebumps race up my arms. I clear my throat. "Except for the jeans."

He shrugs, removing the cap, and tosses it aside. "I'll finish changing. You go eat. If we have to sneak around somewhere and you have an empty stomach that gives us away, I will make sure you are banned from your Gundam for the rest of eternity."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Would you really? Are you _certain_ about that?"

I give him a shrewd look. Knowing him and his uncanny knack for following through on his threats, he _would_ be able to keep me away from Nataku. "No," I mutter, stalking towards the kitchen. He laughs after me.

Food comprised of leftover rice and sandwiches. I sit at the rickety dining table and choke down the food- no way in hell do I feel up to compromising the mission yet again. Duo sits across from me and moments later is squirming in his chair like an agitated child. There is truth to the saying that a man's appearance is much improved when he's in uniform- not that Duo's appearance even _needs_ improving…

I think about these trivial things far too much for my own good. No wonder I'm a danger to the fucking mission.

"Something bothering you?" I finally ask- about his squirming, that is. "Like hemorrhoids?"

"Was that a joke? From _Waffles_?" He looks aghast. I snort. He shakes his head in response. "No, of course it's not _hemorrhoids_! It's my hair I'll have you know. I hate stuffing it down the back of my shirt," he grumbles.

"Then cut it off."

I'm surprised I made the suggestion, owing to the fact that I'm obsessed with that long chestnut hair. The hair guy threatens me with a painful, torturous death for making such a suggestion. The look Duo gives me expresses just as much.

"Are you crazy?"

Yes, apparently so. "Then stop complaining about it."

He harrumphs loudly. "Excellent counter," he finally admits with a grudging tone.

Silence passes between us as I chew thoughtfully on a mouthful of rice, then swallow. "What's the plan?" I finally ask.

"I was wondering when you'd ask."

I give him a look, to which he returns a cheeky smirk. He whips out a roll of paper and flattens it out before me. A miniature blueprint is pasted at the top of the page, marred with red lines, white lines, red X marks, green X marks, _yellow_ X marks, and notes in black scribbled beneath the image.

"Color coordinated and everything."

"Oh shut up. Okay. There are two guards coming in around midnight to take the place of the guys I marked with yellow X's. A third is coming in fifteen minutes later, so getting in will be close. The green ones are the guards who will be there during this time." He taps his finger on a yellow X near the door. "This is where one of the guys we are going to take out is supposed to be stationed. I will be here."

"And I will be where the second yellow X is?" I ask, leaning over the paper.

"Right. Naturally, we won't be hanging around there the whole night. Where I'm located is closest to the main office-"

"I know. That's where I found the uniforms. Too much in the way of office supplies, but there are also plenty of fairly important documents locked in there."

"Which is why it's my choice location. About fifteen, twenty minutes into my 'shift'," he air-quotes this, "I'm going to head in. I'll say have an emergency, or something."

"Not lying, even on a mission."

"Hey, it's a gift." He grins and shrugs. "And I kind of will, anyway. Fake name and all- assuming they ask. Anyway, I'm almost certain that there is at least one computer not hooked up to the main server. That will likely be the one with the incriminating files on it. If they do one thing right, it's likely going to be this.

"Now," he shoves the paper closer to me. "I'd need you to give me about… twenty more minutes to get to the office, break in, hack into their systems, pull up any necessary documents, and copy it onto a disk." He flashed a portable USB drive.

"You think it will only take twenty minutes?"

"You're talking to a computer master." He gives me a mock bow.

I arch a brow skeptically.

He sighs. "Either way. Twenty minutes. Then _you_ come in. Bathroom break, broken nail, whatever excuse you can come up with."

"Broken _nail_?" I may be completely mad for him, but that does _not _make me a fucking girl!

Duo waves it off casually. "Whatever. Anyway, you enter the factory, head to the main office, I'll hand off the disk to you and head back outside. This is the tricky part because it might seem suspicious that I've been away from my post for so long. That's why you come in and take the evidence. That's probably all we should try the first night, so we have time to look over the files and decide how we should handle these tricky ne'er-do-wells."

"You're talk like an old detective."

"Or the headmaster of a school," he points out.

"I see you have put a lot of thought into this."

"No, I'm just witty." He grins when I roll my eyes. "Now hurry up and finish eating so you can change. We have a lot to set up before we actually start this mission."

----

"I have one more question," I murmur as we head back to the heart of Old Birmingham. It's almost 11:30.

"You're awfully inquisitive tonight," Duo replies.

"I think I have every right to be."

"Well fire away, Waffles."

I scowl. "How did you plan on taking out the two men we're replacing? I'd prefer to avoid killing someone this early in the mission."

"Same here. Which is why I brought these." He gropes at his feet and then tosses a lump of black fabric onto my lap.

"A hooded sweatshirt?" I frown. "Disguising ourselves…"

"Right. I figure we only have to deliver the beating. We have to hurt them enough that they need a few nights in the emergency room. But be quiet about it. This will take place in the factory parking lot, so we have to be extremely careful. The guards we're replacing may leave early. The third guy coming in may arrive early. And… these disguises are so we can't be pointed out."

I've never heard of a plan that had so many things that could go wrong… Though we had little room for other options. Murder would set the entire factory on edge looking for newcomers to crucify. Tying the guards up would do just the same. Knocking them unconscious with chloroform wouldn't guarantee our positions in the factory. But if we look like muggers… well, that is to be expected in a city. "Take them out quietly… and then we discard the disguises and let someone else 'find' them."

Duo beams at me. "Exactly." The car swerves dangerously.

"Eyes on the road!"

With a laugh, the car rights itself. "You're too easy, Waffles."

"And stop calling me that!"

In fifteen minutes, courtesy of Duo's maniacal driving, we arrive at the factory.

Pulling the sweatshirt over my head, I stuff the security officer's cap in the front pocket and look over at Duo. Wisps of hair float around his head in a halo of static electricity. I try to hold it back but a burst of laughter escapes.

"Hark… is that a laugh I hear? From our dearest Wufei?"

I blink, surprised into silence. "What, no Waffles?"

"I'm trying to make this moment last. Apparently, that didn't work."

"Why?"

"You don't laugh often. It's… kind of… nice. To hear," he says awkwardly.

Duo. Awkward. When did I enter a parallel universe? His comment makes my face warm. "I think you make up for my lack." For this comment, I receive a sound whack on the back of the head.

"Anyway… be careful," I mutter, rubbing the spot he hit me. We had to split up. If our assault on the incoming guards would attract attention, then having Duo and I on either side of the parking lot would at least split up those we attracted.

He grins. "I think that's what I should be saying to you."

"I'm not amused."

"But I am and that's all that counts." He laughs when I glare at him.

We pull up our hoods, stick small communicators in our ears, and I turn away.

"What, no goodbye kiss?"

I turn back to him. His face is hidden under the shadow of his hood, so I can't tell if he's being serious or not…

Hating him would be so much easier.

Oh, what the hell?

Seizing the front of his sweatshirt, I haul him in. Our mouths crush together in a brief, so-called 'goodbye kiss'. He makes it difficult to pull away, what with his perfect taste and even more than perfect responses to me. But somewhere in the back of my mind I remember that we are on a mission. I can get swept up in Duo some other time. So, finally, with tremendous effort, I pull away.

"Satisfied?" I gasp.

His face is still hidden in shadow. After a long pause, he says, "For now."

His response makes me hot all over. Why a damned mission _now?_ Couldn't we just forget about it?

Swallowing hard, I nod. "See you in a bit." Then I turn and make tracks across the parking lot.

It would be _so_ much easier to hate him…

The parking lot is dimly lit, which makes it easier to hide and easier to see in the shadows. I lean against a tree that stabs one corner of the lot- a sorry attempt at landscaping- and wait. The lot is empty except for about eight cars- those belonging to the security team.

"Move out," says Duo's voice in my ear. He has spotted our prey. "Closest one to you is at the front entrance of the lot."

There is silence.

Silent as a wraith, I slip across the lot. The unsuspecting guard gives his location away with the noise of getting out of his car. How much muttering and swearing and jumbling of keys does one need to get out of one's car?

I am behind the fool before he even has chance to turn around. Then I shove him into the side of his car and snarl, "Give me your wallet, old man!"

The man sputters as he bounces off the car. "What? What?"

Is he deaf or just a complete ass? "Your wallet. Your wallet. Hand it over before I kick your face in!" May as well make the 'mugging' look authentic. I don't particularly like this manner of fighting- common street brawling. There is no honor to it. And it's always the strong against the weak. But sometimes… one's honor must be sacrificed in a war. I jerk the sniveling fool around and thrust my fist into his diaphragm. His breath leaves him in a mighty gasp.

"The wallet!" I administer a few more strikes as he grapples to get a hit or two of his own in- I'm not pleased when he manages to land a blow to my side. Fed up with him, I strike the pressure point in his neck and he falls like a block of lead. Not at all formidable for a member of this factory's security team. I grab the man's wallet and tap the communication device. "Target down."

"Ditto. Get ready, not much time before the other arrives."

"Right." I cast a hurried glance around the lot. The attack didn't seem to have drawn any attention. Good. I trot back to my hiding spot and I yank of the sweatshirt, pull my cap out of its pocket, replacing it with the wallet, and toss the sweatshirt high into the tree.

When I return to the scene of the crime, Duo is dragging an unconscious body with arms draped over his shoulders. He dumps the body next to the one I incapacitated. Then he jerks his head towards the factory. "Let's go," he says, donning his cap.

This part of the plan calls for us leaving the bodies for one of the other employees to discover. If we're careful, no fingers will point at us.

As we are heading up the main drive to the factory, we meet up with the third guard that Duo had said would be arriving. We nod at him in greeting and he frowns, looking us over. My insides seize with apprehension.

"Who are you guys?"

"We're new to this location," Duo says congenially. He's made his voice deeper again and it sends a shiver down my spine. Damn him!

"Just transferred yesterday," I add, pulling out my 'I'm-just-one-of-the-locals' accent again. "I'm Lei. This is Crawford."

"Away for vacation and they transfer in new guys," the guard mutters under his breath as we pass through the front doors. "Oy. Where're Hansen and Werner?" I hear him demand at the door.

Keep calm, I tell myself.

"You two seen a couple of guys in the parking lot dressed like us?" the female guard at the door asks.

I shake my head. Two guards, the ones I assume are supposed to leave now, are sent outside to take a look. About five minutes later, one returns with 'shocking' news. The two supposed to come in at midnight have been mugged. Duo and I feign surprise and concern. A mugging? Here? Who would've thought?

After a bit of deliberation between the men, Duo finally suggests they call an ambulance to take the poor saps' bodies away. Honestly, is the suggestion that difficult to think of? Do morons run this factory?

Regardless, they agree. Within fifteen minutes, the men are taken away and Duo and I are asked to take their places. No problem there.

The problem starts when Duo goes to filch information from the factory's computer. Forty minutes after the start of our shift, I excuse myself for a bathroom break.

"I'm heading over," I mutter into the communicator as soon as the coast is clear.

Duo swears profusely, as if I startled him. I frown. That didn't sound very reassuring.

"Something wrong?"

"Nng… I'll tell you when you get here."

I frown harder. What the hell could go wrong now? I pick up my pace to a brisk trot and make my way to the main office. When I enter, Duo is frantically clacking away on the keyboard of the main computer.

"What's going on?" I hiss, stepping up beside him. The screen has apparently frozen up. "What are you doing?"

"This computer has an extremely sensitive security system."

"Meaning?"

"It's just alerted… whoever this computer belongs to that I'm hacking into their machine. Within less than a minute now, I'm certain the guards here will come in to check things out."

"Goddammit… we don't have time for this."

"I know, I know. I'm trying to break down this firewall as fast as I can. We need this information." He sighs. "Christ, we're going to have to complete this mission sooner than I expected. Like…tomorrow night." Text scrolls rapidly up the screen and he swears again, clacking wildly on the keyboard. "Damn. Damn. _Damn!_" He makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He looks absolutely miserable. "I'm sorry. I've screwed this mission completely."

I want to reach out and make him feel better. But now is not the time, nor the place to do so. "Duo…"

He clenches his jaw noticeably and yanks his USB card out of the available slot. He thrusts it into my hand and I stow it in my pocket with as much haste.

The office door slams open then and it takes all my self-control to keep from jumping back in surprise. That would look just too fucking suspicious right there.

"What's going on in here?" barks the guard who enters first.


	27. Chapter 27

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 27:**

"What are you two doing in here?" a second guard demands.

I curse my sudden, unexplainable inability to think on my feet. I scramble wildly for an answer but Duo beats me to the punch. Damn fucking bastard.

"Lei here is my er… lover." This earns him stunned looks from everyone, myself included. "He just can't keep his hands off me."

Oh yes. And I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to killkillkill him. Later. Right now I need to pretend that this is not news to me.

Clearing my throat, I continue with this story of his. "Just wanted a minute alone… must've hit the computer…" I mutter, trying my best to sound abashed.

Duo laces his fingers with mine. Every nerve in my skin tingles with the effort. "However… we realize now how very unprofessional a thing that is to do."

Unprofessional, my ass.

The two men look ill. The woman behind them wrinkles her nose. "Well… you two _do_ make an attractive pair."

"McMann, this is _not_ the time for that!" roars guard number one. Guard number two looks ready to vomit into his hat. Bastards, the lot of them.

The woman harrumphs. "Regardless, we will have to report you. This office is off limits." She forces her way past us to check the computer. I don't think Duo left a trail. I hope to whatever deity resides above that he hadn't. Justice, give me peace of mind tonight.

"We apologize," I say, trying to keep my tone that of one who had been caught, embarrassed, and reprimanded… which isn't hard, considering I have been. "It won't happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't. Messing with this room could mean _all_ of our jobs," guard number one grumbles. He and number two walk out, muttering amongst each other about 'damned queers' who 'shouldn't be working in this line of business' and ought to 'stick to design and dance'.

"Say that last bit to my face, fucking bastards!" I bellow at their retreating forms.

Duo, who is still holding my hand, squeezes it to silence me from further retort. "Calm down." He gives me a pointed look. I fight to regain my composure. I don't want to blow it even further.

The woman straightens and brushes her hands together, heading for the door. "Well, everything looks fine enough." She pauses and keeps glancing between Duo and I.

What the fuck is she waiting for?

After a long moment, I nudge his shoulder. "Go back to your post. I'll finish with you after our shift is over," I growl.

Duo grins broadly. "Yes sir." He breezes jauntily past the woman.

The woman looks at me seriously. "Make sure this doesn't happen again. You're lucky we're short-handed. Otherwise you would've been fired on the spot. OZ doesn't put up with those who fool around. We thought it was a Gundam pilot infiltrating. You could've been shot upon sight."

I nod. "I'll make note of that. Again… Terribly sorry." Terribly sorry that we were caught, that is. However… I have to admit, though I sympathize with Duo's agony at a near-failure, I'm glad it was his fault this time and not mine.

The rest of the evening goes off without a hitch. Well, except for the evening break-time. The woman seems to think it a good idea for Duo and I to take ours together. I am under the impression that she is the one in charge of this motley guard because, although the others sneer and make faces, they don't try to prevent it. The woman, of course, takes her break with us and simply stares at us like a vulture eyeing fresh death on the pavement. But aside from a couple playful nudges from Duo and him snatching my sandwich from my hand to take a bite, there is nothing for her to observe.

The sun should have been just barely peering over the horizon as we are relieved from our shifts. Instead, it's raining. Great torrents of rain. Again. Within seconds we are drenched.

"That was an adventure," Duo shouts over the sound of the rain as we race for the car.

I glowered at the sky. And got an eyeful of rain. "Ends tomorrow, right?"

He sighs. "Yes."

"Something bothering you?"

"I just… can't get over the fact that I blew it."

I roll my eyes as we clamber into our rickety car. "Oh get over it. I've blown our missions plenty of times in the past month or so. Your 'failure', if that's what you want to call it, was virtually insignificant compared to mine. Anyway, you didn't blow it completely. We covered our tracks well enough. No one figured out that we were actually hacking their computers."

There is silence on Duo's end. Frankly, I'm a bit surprised. He is rarely silent like this. I tear my eyes from the road for a moment to cast him a sidelong glance. In the vague gray light of the rainy morning, he looks… thoughtful. After several seconds, he glances at me and grins suddenly. My gaze snaps to the road again.

"You know… you're terrible at making people feel better."

"Well, it's not my forte."

He makes an amused noise. "Well, strangely enough, it ended up working."

I sigh heavily. "Well, I do try," I mutter. If he has a problem with it, he can shove it.

I don't do the 'stay-up-all-night' thing very well.

There is another moment of that strange silence. Then he says, in an oddly quiet sort of way, "Well… thanks."

I turn my gaze to him and stare until he physically pushes my face forward again. "Eyes on the road, Waffles."

With a snort, I do as I'm told. I'd almost rather have him call me Wuffers.

The drive home is pretty much silent after that. Duo turns on the radio to some random rock station and is fast asleep minutes later. His head drops heavily onto my shoulder. I gave a start and in the process caused the car to swerve wildly across the wet road. Swearing under my breath, I jerk the car back into the appropriate lane. Duo sleeps through all of this, leaving me with the impression that he could sleep through a tornado ripping through his room.

Not that I minded too much.

After about half an hour of driving, we were back at the rundown safehouse. The rain had stopped a while ago, but it is still misty enough to dampen my mood even further. I follow a groggy Duo into the safehouse and into the room we were to sleep in. Stripping to my boxers, I plop down on 'my' fusty old bed, preparing to fall asleep until dusk, when I hear a shout from his side of the room. I glance over to see Duo jumping off his bed.

"Is there a problem, Duo?" I ask in a grouchy sort of way.

He pulls a face. "This bed is soaked." He pushes the lumpy mattress and I hear a faint squelching noise.

"There must be a leak in the roof."

"You think?"

Tired as I am, his sarcasm is not missed.

"Hey, give me one of your blankets. I'll go sleep on the sofa." He holds out a hand expectantly.

I study him for a moment. Down to his boxers as well, groggy as hell, gaze drifting here and there in vague disorientation… If I weren't so tired myself, this completely random sight of him would be torture. As it is, it's very close to torture. I lift the side of my blankets. "Climb in."

He gives me a stupid stare. As if he can't believe I'm suggesting this. Even I can't. "Eh?"

"It'll be tight but it's better than that musty sofa," I say gruffly. Awkwardly. He stands there for such a long time that I assume he's going to refuse.

Just goes to show how much I actually know.

He clambers into the bed next to me and flops onto his side, his back to me. And I was right. It _is_ a tight squeeze.

"If you kick me, I'm going to kick your ass in the morning," he says over his shoulder in warning.

"It's already morning. I don't kick. Besides, you'd sleep through it even if I did."

"Shut up!"

After another awkward moment, I put my arm around his waist. He is still, so I guess he's asleep. But, once again he proves me wrong as he snuggles into me. I freeze at his unanticipated response.

"Goodnight Waffles."

That stupid nickname makes me relax a bit. "I already told you. It's _morning_."

"Shut up."


	28. Chapter 28

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: I would like to thank my reader/reviewer shevaleon for unknowingly inspiring this chapter. It turned out much more quickly (and much better in my opinion) than it would have if it hadn't happened. So thank you very much! And I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it._

**_Chapter 28:_**

I wake up slower than usual. I'm curled up with something warm and wonderful and my face is buried in something that smells like… chamomile? I crack an eye open and my vision is chestnut. With a mental groan, I lift my head slightly to see that I am flush against Duo, who is still fast asleep. He shifts under my arm and sighs heavily in his sleep. In almost a childlike manner, his hand is curled near his face. It twitches slightly every so often. This draws a drowsy smile from me. I rest my head upon my pillow again, drawing myself closer to him. It's still "early" yet. A bit more sleep can't hurt.

A small bit of time passes (I don't know how much and I don't really care) and I'm well on my way to going back to sleep when Duo emits a groan. The bed shifts under his weight and I feel him roll onto his back. There is a slight shift in the air around me and I crack an eye open to see his elbow hovering over my face. It's a testament to my own sleepiness that I don't flinch out of the way. He gives me a bleary look of surprise and slaps his hand over his face. Apparently, he didn't realize I was still there.

"Sorry 'bout that. Morning," he says groggily. He punctuates this with a tremendous yawn.

"Evening," I correct him matching his yawn with my own.

He exhales loudly and blinks a few times. "Whatever."

"Sleep well."

"Yeah," he says through another yawn. Then he stretches noisily. "Surprisingly," he adds. "I usually like my space." He flops his head on the pillow and glances at me. "What about you?"

I nod in agreement.

He grins sleepily. "Though I think _someone_ kicked me."

"If I did, it's because someone _else_ kept putting his cold feet on my legs."

He snickers.

Leaning over, I capture his mouth in a kiss. I don't exactly know what drove me to it. Normally I think I'd balk from the thought of morning (or evening, if you will) breath alone. But it's Duo. So I don't. Of course I don't. His chuckles die away and his fingers dig into my arms, drawing me nearer. There is nothing aggressive about it. Just simple, lazy, wonderful…

I have to breathe.

I pull back as his teeth catch my bottom lip lightly. Oh. God. There is no hope for me now.

I'm half sprawled over him, fingers deep in his hair. I can feel his heartbeat against my skin for crying out loud. Oh yes. I'm supposed to be breathing.

"That was some good morning… er, evening," Duo says with a grin.

Yes. Right. Good morning. Evening. Whatever. I don't care anymore.

Okay, I've taken my breath. I swoop in again, continuing that kiss where it left off. I want to touch every last inch of him… taste him… make him mine. I run my fingers along the planes of his chest. He squirms under my touch and his hands reach up and twist into mine. I don't mind. He doesn't seem to mind much either. My body is reacting forcibly to his.

Life is perfect.

There is a loud beeping noise. Duo groans, wrenching away from me, and glances at his watch.

I'm going to break that watch. With a hammer. Then I'll have Nataku stomp on it. And whatever remains will be blown up with a nuclear weapon.

Life is kicking my ass once again.

"What was that all about?" I demand, grouchy as hell. I think I have every fucking right to be!

Duo sits up and turns away from me, rubbing his neck, which is bright red. It matches his ears, which are also bright red. "It's… uh… I set it last night. To wake me up. For the mission. You know. Tonight. Get ready. Plan. And everything."

I groan, landing face first into the pillow. "Can't we just forgo the goddamned mission tonight?" I ask, my voice muffled in the pillow. Everything was so. Fucking. Perfect. I slam my fist down next to my head.

"What?"

Damn. Damn! _Damn!_ "Nothing. Go on. I'll be up in a second," I grumble, turning to face him.

Nodding, he towards the door, tugging at his braid. I wonder somewhere in the back of my mind if it's a nervous habit of his. He pauses, gives me an oddly questioning look, and then out the door he goes.

I wouldn't wish my luck on anyone.

Except maybe Yuy.

Taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to subdue my frustration, I clamber out of bed and fling the sheets back into place. Why me? Why is it _always _me? Oh sure. One could say that I'm not the _only_ one to suffer in this world. That I'm being selfish and vain to think as much. Well I don't give a flying rat's ass about that unknown entity right now!

Get a grip on yourself, Chang!

I take a deep breath, shaking my head, clenching and unclenching my hands, before I head out of the room. I can hear water running noisily through the pipes. Duo is in the shower then. Good. This leaves me with ample time to cool down. I stalk down the hall towards the kitchen to boil a pot of tea. He already has his coffee going. I grip a chipped cup tightly in my hands as I wait. Inhale two, three, hold… exhale two, three, hold. Repeat. I feel myself releasing some of that tension that he causes within me. That he shouldn't cause in me. But he does. Because he's so. Fucking. Perfect.

Half an hour and two cups of tea later, Duo enters the kitchen. He's half-dressed in those gray slacks and a gray undershirt that clings to his still-damp skin. But I am not looking at him. I. Am. Not. Looking. Silently, he goes to get his coffee. Finally, he turns to me, fingers tapping on the oversized mug.

"So, what's our itinerary today?"

I make sure not to look at him as I pull out the blueprints he'd written on last night. I've finally regained my wits. I don't want to go losing them again so soon. "Well, tonight we have to blow this place to pieces. It's going to have to be the hard way because, obviously, our Gundams are going to be attacked upon sight. Deathscythe is equipped with spare detonators, right?"

He nods, plopping into the chair across from me.

"Okay. We'll have to leave about two hours earlier than we anticipated so we can set this up."

That is met with a groan.

I arch a brow at him. Now I can look without losing my mind. "What?"

"I just don't want to be there longer than necessary."

"But… this is necessary."

"Maybe. But I still don't have to like it."

"Big baby," I mutter, stealing his own words.

With a laugh, he agrees. "But at least I can admit it. So let's figure out where we can most effectively set our dear detonators."

And for the next hour we debate and plan and at one point I smash the blueprint off the table in a fit of anger and Duo throws his long since empty mug at me. But it gets done.

Finally, I excuse myself to take a brief shower. Even after all this time between my shower and Duo's, he still used up most of the hot water. "Thanks for leaving me the water," I comment as I head back into the kitchenette, tying my hair back.

"There wasn't much when _I_ showered." He looks at me curiously, tilting his head. "Do you ever leave it down?"

I blink stupidly. So shoot me. I have no idea what he's talking about. "What?"

"Your hair. Do you ever leave it down?"

I reach up and pat the wet black hair. "Uh… no. No, it gets in the way. You don't leave yours down, do you?" I mutter. "Why?"

"Well no… but mine's a lot longer than yours. And I was just wondering." He shrugged and glanced at his watch. "Well, we'd better go." We head out the old safehouse's front door, ducking under the cobwebs simultaneously as we do so. "I don't know how near 'Scythe is to yours, so we'll split up? Meet back here before we head to the factory?"

I nod. And split we do. I head through the woods to Nataku's hiding spot. She hums to life when I clamber inside. "Sorry… not today," I murmur. I almost expect her to forcibly eject me from the cockpit in frustration. She's not meant to lie about for days on end. I frown, hastily pulling out the detonators stashed in a small compartment at the side of my chair. Then, with a sincere apology, I pull myself out of Nataku's cockpit and cover her up once again.

There will be fireworks tonight.

----

"Done," says Duo's voice in my ear.

"Done," I echo, setting my last detonator in place. Glancing around, I slip through the shadows of the factory parking lot. There is silence, save for the sound of my feet crunching on loose gravel. The exit is straight ahead and I see Duo slipping through the gates towards our car.

"Ready?" I ask when I come to a stop next to him.

He nods, unlocking his side of the car and tossing me the keys. Time to go to work. We will go in, unremarkable and innocent. Guard the factory for a couple of hours to avoid suspicion that it could possibly be us. Go on break. Plant an extra detonator there, along with bits of bloodied clothing. Sneak out. Blow the factory sky high. By all accounts it will look as though Duo and I received full force of the blasts.

Into the parking lot we went. We relieve the men at our posts and ready ourselves for a long wait. The man who guards the door with me is talking, but I'm not paying attention, giving him automatic responses as my mind wanders elsewhere. To Duo. Of course to Duo. Where else would it go?

Fucking obsessed.

But there is something else there, niggling in the back of my mind. I forcibly steer my thoughts away from Duo, in attempt to figure it out. Unease. Perhaps we should've orchestrated this as a 'set-up-and-go' operation instead of lingering to cover our existence. Getting out of town may prove difficult, what with all the mobile suits around just _waiting_ for something like this to happen. But that was the whole point of the mission. To make it look like we died in this explosion. To pin the blame not on us, but on 'the dreaded Gundam pilots' who were, to most soldiers, nameless, faceless beings. Or on suicide bombers. In other words good and dead so they won't come looking for us.

The bastards just have to make things difficult for us…

Several hours have passed and it is time. I excuse myself for my break and walk purposefully to the break room. Adrenaline starts rushing through my veins. This is it. Taking care to look at ease, I enter the room. Duo is already there, absently flipping through a month old magazine of nameless origin. Gracelessly, I plop down next to him. "Alone?" I ask through my teeth.

"Yup."

"All right. Got your switch?"

He nods, dangling it in front of my face. "Let's blow this Popsicle stand."

I roll my eyes, standing again. "Come on."

And the door slams open.

"Hold it." That damned woman marches in, gun trained on us. Duo and I freeze as the gun shifts back and forth between us. I am a curse. I must be. Every goddamned mission I go on, we get caught!

"I knew there was something off about you two. You couldn't have gotten into the main office because I have the only key. Now who are you?" she demands. We are silent. Come on, did she really think we'd spill all just because she asked? "Answer me!"

Duo gives me a quick look and I nod. We move to overcome her but she is a lot faster than I would've given credit for. Within seconds, she has Duo pinned to the ground, driving her knee in his shoulder blades and her gun into the back of his head. She yanks out a walkie-talkie. "This is McMann. I need back up in the break room."

In a flash my own gun is in my hand, steadily trained on the woman. So help me, if that bitch hurts him she will wish she had never stepped in this room.

She digs her knee further into his back, forcing a groan out of Duo. "Surrender or I will shoot!"

"Release him or _I_ will shoot!" I snap back.

"Drop your weapon."

"Release him!"

"Just… get out of here, man!" I hear Duo croak in a muffled voice.

I should. He's down. I have a mission to carry out. I _should_. But I can't. My throat feels tight. "I'm not leaving you behind, you fool," I manage to choke out.

"Dumbass…" He gasps when McMann digs her gun into the back of his neck.

She gives me a critical look. "You two _are_ lovers."

Not really… but you don't have to sound so surprised about it.

"Release him or I will kill you," I say through gritted teeth. I should've killed her already.

She looks at me, then at Duo. Then she glares at me triumphantly. "It seems we are at an impasse. Drop your weapon and surrender and I will do him no harm."

"I do not make bargains." I release the safety. Upon hearing the sound, so does she.

Dammit! This does not bode well. And I'm just making things worse. Outside the door, I can hear slamming doors and scuffling feet. She hears it too and glances at the door expectantly. Her mistake. I shift my weight and dive at her, slamming into her and sending the two of us end over end off of Duo. A shot rings out and Duo yelps. The sound enrages me. This… this _woman _shot him! She grapples to send me flying over her, but she cannot defeat me now. In my fury, I slam the guard's head down on the pavement and ram my elbow down on her throat. She exhales forcibly, spitting blood and her head lolls limply to the side. I slam her head down on the pavement again for good measure and stand up. It's then I can feel my chest heaving from the exertion. My hands are clenched so tightly that I know they will be bruised in the morning.

I glance over my shoulder to see Duo standing behind me, gripping his shoulder. Bright streams of red drip slowly down his arm. His eyes are clouded with pain but I can see a bit of shock in them as he stares at me.

Oh god…

I'm an animal.

I look away from him. "Can you move?"

"Yes," he grinds out.

"Then lets get the hell out of here."

Duo comes up beside me, wincing, and pulls out his gun. The noise is just outside the door now. It slams open again. It seems that things are not over yet. With simultaneous yells, we charge them. It is to our advantage that only one to two of them can squeeze through the door at a time. I crouch down like a rugby player and charge forward, plowing through them with elbows and a shot here and there. Duo follows close behind, snapping off rounds of his own.

So much for pulling this off unnoticed.

We race to the parking lot with the uninjured guards shooting blindly behind us.

"One!" I yell, yanking my switch from my pocket. "Two!" Duo hauls his out as well. "Three!" Simultaneously, we slam our thumbs onto the switch. There is a pause. And suddenly, the building explodes. Debris shoots everywhere. I'm hit with a burning brick or two and soot rains down on us.

Thankfully, we left the car unlocked. Diving in, I rev up the engine and squeal madly out of the parking lot. Already I hear sirens screaming down the streets. I press my foot harder on the gas and we fly through the streets of Old Birmingham.

----

It's dark now. Not outside, but in the house. Rain is pouring in great torrents, fitting my mood exactly. Duo is asleep, recovering from his wound, and my less than gentle treatment of it. Extraction is not my forte. But he put up with it well. Apart from a few grunts, he didn't make a peep as I fished the bullet from his wound, cleaned it, and bandaged it. He is lucky it was just a grazed wound. I am luck it was just a grazed wound.

I should be asleep too, but I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself smashing that woman's head on the ground. Over and over.

She may have been the enemy, but I was worse. I was a monster.

Floorboards creak behind me and I hear a sleepy "Wufei?"

Don't let him see me. Don't let him see me. I bury my face in my hands.

He pads over. "What are you doing?" I feel the couch depress as he sits next to me.

"Can't sleep," I grunt.

"Why not?"

"Don't worry about it. Just go back to bed."

"Wufei…"

At his tone- quiet, concerned, gentle- I lose it completely. My shoulders quake. But I will not cry. Arms circle around me. His. He pushes my head onto his shoulder and I break. With one last shudder I choke on a sob. I can't hold it anymore. I don't cry. I can't cry. But I can't stop the tears. His grip on me holds and he strokes my back, murmuring nonsense under his breath.

"I'm a monster," I choke out.

I don't deserve this.


	29. Chapter 29

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Well, this is a lot earlier than I anticipated!_

**Chapter 29:**

"You're not a monster," Duo finally says when I seem to calm down. If that's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn't. Because I can't seem to agree with him. Where's his logic? He saw what I did… How can he dismiss it so easily?

My eyes feel painfully dry and my throat feels raw. I am mortified that he saw me this way. This entire day was a disaster and I just falling apart at the seams right along with it. My head is still on his shoulder and his arms are still around me. I want to push him away but I'm so spent from the unwanted tears that I can't even move.

I haven't felt this ashamed since I lost my head and allowed Khushrenada to defeat me in that sword fight.

At least I'm stopped crying like some five-year-old who had his favorite toys taken away.

"Then what am I?" I grumble. I try to ignore the stuffy sounds my voice makes.

"You…" he pauses as if thoughtful and sighs loudly before continuing. "You are a human being. A soldier who just… overreacted, I guess."

Is that what he calls it? Overreacting? I snort. Or try to. My nose is so stuffy that I end up choking on the breath instead. I cough pathetically.

Why do I have to be like this? Why does he have to see me like this?

"Hey, you told me so yourself. We all lose it sometimes."

"Not like this," I groan.

"Yeah, actually. Just like this." He's quiet for a moment but his fingers still trace random patterns across my back. It's oddly comforting. "Even mellow guys like Quatre flip out. I hear he tried to annihilate Trowa in the Wing Zero."

"You'd kill _puppies_ in Wing Zero. That system doesn't allow for even comrades." So if it is true, Quatre still had an excuse.

"That's not my point. We were high on adrenaline and our nerves were keyed… We got caught by the enemy." I feel him shrug. "It could've happened to anyone."

"It shouldn't have happened to me. I'm supposed to be the level one. You like to go out with a bang. Yuy follows orders to a goddamned 'T', regardless of what they are. No one knows what's going on within Barton's head. And Winner tries to get everyone to see reason. _I'm_ supposed to be the one who steps back and looks at the problem logically. I'm the one who is supposed to make the right split decision."

"You've named your Gundam. How logical can you be?" he teases. But he sobers up before I can comment. "Look Wufei… You're human, not a monster. And not a computer. Therefore you're _not _infallible. You're not _supposed _to be anything but yourself. It wasn't completely your fault."

But it was. Enemy or not, I didn't have to crush that woman's windpipe. I didn't have to repeatedly bash her head on the ground and leave her there to die in the explosion without a fighting chance to survive. My only justification was that I did it because she was threatening Duo. Selfishly, my mission had changed at that moment from destroy the factory to kill that woman. I didn't want him taken away from me.

And I can't forget the shock that was in his eyes.

After another minute or so, he disentangles himself from me gently, as if I'll physically break. I'm not glass, dammit!

"I'm going to check what's on the radio. You just… rest or something."

I flop lifelessly against the couch, watching as he crosses the room and turns on the decades-old radio. After a lot of fiddling and static, he finds what appears to be the news station.

"…outraged by this unwarranted attack on a civilian facility…"

Duo and I snort in unison. Civilian my ass.

"Reports have revealed that the Gundam pilots are responsible…" Static crackles loudly and the voice of the reporter fades away.

With a grunt, I push myself to a seated position. "Turn it up."

He does so, frowning as the static increases. He gives the radio a sharp shake. As if that would help.

"I think that wire dangling there is the antenna. Adjust that."

He grabs the thin wire I pointed out and moves it until the voices become clear.

"There."

"Yeah, I figured that out," he says, sounding strained. The arm that was shot last night trembles violently with the effort to hold the wire in place. Damn him! That should be my job. With a scowl, I push myself to my feet and grab the wire away from him.

"You're hurt, so _you_ sit and rest."

He doesn't listen to me, of course, so we both stand by the radio, glaring at it as the reporter continues.

"One survivor reports that the pilots escaped the explosion and are still at large. Search parties have been organized throughout Old Birmingham. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of these two men, OZ asks that you please call this number-"

Duo turns off the radio, apparently having heard enough. I know I have. "We have to leave."

"If we leave now, they'll shoot us out of the sky," I counter.

"They're scouring the town for us! Even the biggest idiot will know to check the surrounding forests. Where else would we hide? They'll see this stupid shack or find our Gundams and then we'll be trapped at best."

"We're trapped either way," I retort.

"If we leave now, we might be able to get away before they notice. If we head out opposite of home for about an hour or two, turn around and give this city an extremely wide berth, we might be able to do it." He grabs my shoulders and makes me look at him. "Trust me."

My gaze drifts to his bandaged shoulder. I wince, feeling as though I had been the one who'd pulled the trigger. I must have spaced out because he gives me a firm shake, still waiting for my answer. I glance back in his eyes. He's begging me to trust him. And I want to. I want out of this nightmare. I want to wake up and find that Duo hadn't been shot and I hadn't turned into this monster that I am. That it was all a mistake.

Getting away from it is the best I can do.

Besides, being shot out of the sky is better than being captured and tortured for information. Again. I don't want to put Duo in that position. Again.

I nod. "Okay," I say hoarsely.

He smiles grimly. "All right. Let's get our things."

"Will you be able to pilot your transport with that shoulder?" I ask as he heads for the kitchen.

"I'm going to have to. I'm not leaving 'Scythe behind." He pauses, rotating the wounded arm, and winces. "You don't have any painkillers, do you?"

----

I don't know how we manage it. By all my luck has done by me, we should've been shot out of the sky the moment we took off. But we weren't. That was nothing short of a miracle, if I chose to believe in them. Duo and I have long since parted ways and neither of us has said anything over the transports' communications for over an hour. I'm not sure if that is a good sign or not.

I'm exhausted. The midday sun is glaring through my windows, giving me a headache. Scenes of our mission keep flashing into my mind. I growl, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

Stay awake. Forget about that fucking mission.

"I'm heading back now."

Duo's voice startles me and I lurch unexpectedly. I'm grateful he isn't around to see this. My eyes automatically scan the sky for a sign of his transport, even though I know I won't see it.

"As am I."

There is a pause before he adds, with fatigued cheer, "See you back home, Wufei."

Home. Or home for now, at least. Just a few more hours. I groan into my hands.

----

The hours passed with maddening slowness. But finally, I am stashing the transport and Nataku in their hiding spots. Crunching leaves behind me alert me of a presence. Whirling, ready to strike, I relax instantly upon seeing Duo's weary smile. His eyes are bright and, though his face is pale, his cheeks are red. I nearly voice my concern, but, as usual, he speaks first.

"It's about time, huh?" he asks wearily, coming to a stop next to me.

Then he hits the ground in a dead faint. It was so sudden, I felt as though my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Duo!" I yell, falling to my knees beside him. Grabbing his shoulders, I give him a shake. His head lolls lifelessly on his shoulders like that of a doll. His injured arm is hot to the touch. Grimacing, I drop his other shoulder and slap the free hand onto his forehead. Also hot. It doesn't necessarily mean he has a fever, but I don't doubt he does.

I scoop him up off the ground. Gritting my teeth against my own exhaustion, I turn and head for the safehouse I am left wondering how it's possible for someone his size to be this lightweight. By the time I get to the safehouse, however, he seems anything but.

When I march through the door, there is a flurry of activity around me.

"We saw coverage of the explosion on the news… What happened to Duo?" I think it's Winner.

"Mission went sour… He got shot," I manage to say, unable to support Duo much longer. "Passed out just after landing. I'm going to drop him. Take him.

Yuy comes up out of nowhere and wrenches him from my quaking arms and carries him off to who-knows-where. I'm so exhausted I don't even care at the moment.

"Did you get the data?" Barton asks.

I nod stupidly, fumbling to get the USB stick from my pocket. Finally free, I stumble forward and shove it in his hands. All of a sudden, the events of the last several days hit me. I am so exhausted that I fear I'm going to weep again just from the stress. "Call Dr. Po… for Duo."

Winner grabs my arm. "For the both of you. Come on… You don't look so good. I think you should sit down?"

What a wonderful idea. I'll do just that. My knees buckle beneath me. Right here will do just fine, I guess.

And then…

"Wufei!"


	30. Chapter 30

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: I got the weirdest sense of déjà vu when I wrote this chapter… anyway… not that you all care –grins- Enjoy!_

**Chapter 30:**

When I open my eyes, my first thought is '_where the hell is Duo?_' followed immediately by '_where the hell am _I' Ignoring the order of those thoughts, I groan and push myself up to a sitting position. My vision swims for a moment before focusing on a familiar room. My room. For the time being, anyway. I am ridiculously happy to realize that fact.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stagger to my feet. At first, my legs don't want to work, but as I stand there, shifting my weight impatiently, they finally remember how to function and I head into the bathroom for a shower. I don't know how long I've been out, but the pasty feeling in my mouth and the fact that I just _feel_ grimy and unwashed is not a positive sign as far as my hygiene is concerned.

I shower for much longer than necessary owing to the fact that the hot water feels wonderful on my tired, stiff, aching muscles. But, as all water does, it starts to run cold eventually and so I finally bid the comfort of the shower adieu. When I finally leave the little bathroom, toweling my hair dry as I go, I find Dr. Sally Po standing in the doorway to my bedroom looking as angry as a boar that had been shot in the backside and refused to die just yet. Thankfully, I am wearing a pair of old but well cared for sweats. It makes me grateful that I don't make it habit to walk around my room naked.

Mental note: Lock the damned door when that woman is around.

"Can I help you?" I ask, pulling my hair back.

Her nostrils flare and I wouldn't be surprised if she exhales fire at that moment. "You distinctly ignored my orders that you were to rest." She's trying to be calm. But I can tell it's difficult for her.

"I had a mission." Well, despite the fact that it may or may not have actually been for me.

"Mission?" she explodes. So much for the effort to remain calm. "Excluding Duo, there are three other able-bodied pilots in this household that could have taken this- this _mission_ on! If you had any common sense, you would've given the job to any one of them!"

It's kind of amusing, watching her rant and rave at me. I wait until she is finished before I speak.

"So, what was wrong with me this time?"

She blinks at me, as if my question is stupid and unexpected, and exhales forcefully. "Severe exhaustion," she says in a clipped sort of way. "You've been sleeping for two and a half days already."

No wonder I felt like some sort of swamp creature.

"How's Duo?" I ask before she can continue. After all, this is the only thing I really want to know. If he is fine, I can rest easier.

"Recovering. His wound was slightly infected and as a result he caught a mild fever. On top of his own exhaustion." She gives me a pained look. I know what she's thinking. She thinks that we shouldn't be in this position. That we should be going to school and hanging out with friends and that the biggest thing we should worry about is an exam or that important date Friday night. Like normal people our age. But we aren't normal. We're far from it. And, though I can't speak for all of us, I know I wouldn't be content to sit around and _be_ 'normal'.

This is why women like her shouldn't be fighting. They risk getting too invested in someone else's life.

Not that I should talk.

"Now you get back in bed! I want you to- hey, where are you going!"

I'm already halfway down the hall as she's hissing at me to go back to bed and rest or so help her god…

…_Beware of owner._

I roll my eyes at the stupid sign and, after rapping my knuckles sharply against the door, I enter Duo's room, locking the door behind me. He is tucked firmly in bed and I catch him peering at me over the pages of an extremely battered book.

The utterance "Mm" and a small nod is the extent of his greeting before his face disappears behind the book again.

"I didn't know you read," I jibe. I pull his desk chair next to his bed and sit.

"That's not nice." He dog-ears the page and sets the book on the night table next to his bed. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Had to get away from that she-demon," I mutter.

Duo laughs and then winces slightly. My gaze strays momentarily to his bandaged shoulder. Surprisingly enough it's distraction enough from his bare torso. "Yeah… she's threatened to flay me alive if I get up today for any reason except to use the bathroom." He sighs. "I'm going to go nuts from the boredom."

I can sympathize with _that_. "How are you… feeling?" I really am trying to sound as concerned as I feel. Unfortunately, I'm not good at this, so it just comes out sounding awkward. Like I'd rather ask about the health of a cat than his own. I hope he doesn't think that…

"I've been better. But I think she's making more out of this than is necessary." He grins faintly.

Despite what he says, his eyes have the slight glazed look of a person under some heavy medication. It's a miracle he's even coherent, not to mention conscious.

He moans, burrowing further under his blankets. "Why do I always get stuck with the freezing room?" he mutters.

My decision takes maybe five seconds. Probably less. "Move over."

He blinks stupidly at me. Even I'm a bit surprised by my audacity- he's injured, for goodness' sake. But I'm not surprised much.

"Move over," I repeat, pulling the blankets aside.

With a faint laugh, he scoots over enough to give me room to crawl in beside him. Staying aware of his injury, I gingerly pull him into my arms and tug the blankets up around us again. Maybe I can offer a bit of warmth or comfort. Maybe not. But I can try, can't I? Blindly, I snatch the book off his night table. "Here. Read."

He chuckles, sending vibrations through my torso. Not thinking about that. He's injured and chock full of drugs. It is banished from my mind.

"And what will _you_ do?" he asks, dropping his head hard onto my chest and accepting the book.

I try not to wince. "I'll read along," I wheeze.

"But I'm halfway through. You won't know what's going on."

I roll my eyes. "If I'm that desperate to know the beginning, I'll have you regale me with the details or borrow it from you later."

He looks up at me and sticks out his tongue before cracking the book open to where he was reading before I came into bother him. I read along with him for a page or two, but my fingers find the thrill of warm skin almost immediately. I guess I'm taking advantage of the moment because I know I'll likely never have it again.

He has really amazing skin.

My fingers drift lazily across his abdomen and it shudders away from my touch.

Duo inhales sharply.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't do that… it tickles." But his voice doesn't sound humorous. It's rather tense.

I mentally groan. What the fuck have I done now? I mean to apologize, but it ends up coming out, "People are mostly ticklish when they're uncomfortable or nervous about something." I frown hard. "Do I… make you uncomfortable?" Talk about a blow to my already suffering ego.

"I don't like to be tickled," he says.

Well, if he's not a liar, than avoiding the answer to my question is a clear sign that yes, I do make him uncomfortable. Apparently, he doesn't want to offend me by saying so.

At least, I suppose this is true.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, stilling my fingers. I don't want him to be uncomfortable around me. So, with a lot of internal effort, I remove my hands fully from his skin.

"I'm beginning to think that you and your jokes and apologies are _not_, as I first thought, the sign of the apocalypse," he jokes lamely.

I try to chuckle as well but it comes out as a single "heh".

Duo sighs tremendously and then falls silent. When he remains on the same page in his book for longer than necessary, I assume that he isn't reading anymore.

"If you want me to leave, just say so," I grumble. I can take it. I've taken it all along, haven't I? My comment seems to have startled him out of some reverie because he hastily turns the page in his book.

"No… I want you. To stay, I mean." His hand finds mine beneath the sheets and pulls it across his chest. Looping a couple fingers with mine, he settles down to continue reading.

I bury my face in the top of his head, breathing in deep the smell of chamomile again. It's strange, to be here with him, in complete but comfortable silence. I feel content. And peaceful… I don't think I've ever felt this peaceful in my life.

----

_BamBamBam!_

"Duo, are you in there?"

I groan as some rude son-of-a-bitch decides to wake me from my slumber.

_Bam! BamBamBam!_

"Come on, open up."

It sounds vaguely like Barton, but I'm too groggy to ascertain. He's not asking for me, anyway. I roll onto my side and drape an arm around Duo as if it belongs there, intent on going back to sleep again. If he's not up, why should I be?

Unfortunately, Barton doesn't seem to see it that way.

_BamBamBamBamBAM!_

My head jerks up at that final knock and I glower at the door. Climbing out of the warm cocoon of sheets, I stalk across the ice-cold room and push the door open. Barton, whose fist is raised to knock once again, stares blankly at me. And I'm too tired and too pissed off to care.

"Ah… there you are."

"Can I help you?" I grumble.

"Just looking for you, actually."

I glare at him. "Is that all?"

"No. Dr. Po called. Wants Duo to take this." He dangles a bottle of medication from the tips of his fingers.

I snatch it from him. "All right, I'll let him know." And I shut the door before he can say anything else.

"What'd he want?" I hear Duo ask groggily.

"You were awake?"

"Mm." One of his arms lifts out from under the blankets and gives me a 'thumbs up'.

"Why didn't you answer then?"

"I figured he'd go away eventually. They usually do if I prove to be dead to the world…" He yawns hugely and lifts his head to look at me. "What'd he want, anyway?"

"Looking for me, I guess." Though who knew why. Maybe they were concerned that I had oh… I don't know… run off or something? Pardon me while I laugh. "And here, that she-devil wants you to take these." I toss the bottle to him.

He catches it easily and sets it on the night table, snuggling down beneath his blankets again. "I'll take them later. Goodnight."

I cross the room and look down at him. Fast asleep once again. I don't know how he does it. With a sigh, I tear my gaze away. Having gotten up and worked up at Barton, I know I won't be able to fall asleep again. Quietly, I head out of the room.

My stomach growls at me so I head to the kitchen to get something silence it. Barton and Winner are talking quietly, but fall suspiciously silent when I enter. Winner, I notice, gives me a smile, but it'd decidedly guilty. Roll in your guilt, Winner.

"How's Duo?" he asks eventually.

"Fine," I reply, grabbing a pot and filling it with water. "Who was the mission originally for?" No sense beating around the bush.

"I…"

I glance over my shoulder and give him a threatening look that he'd better tell me the truth or I'd have to kick his ass.

He exchanges a look with Barton and then sighs. "I'm sorry!" He pushes his hair from his face and gives me a distraught look. "If I knew what was going to happen… I just thought… or didn't think…" He groans, dropping his head into his hand.

Well, _obviously _he didn't think! But I don't quite feel the vehemence towards him that I should.

"Who was it for?" I repeat.

"Trowa and myself," he said mournfully.

I glare at Barton. "And you just went along with it?"

He shrugs. "I had to replace some worn parts on Heavyarms, so it was as good of an excuse as any."

"I'm truly sorry, Wufei," Winner says. He looks sorry. He sounds it even more.

I'm tempted to forgive him. But I can't just let him off that easily…

"Never… do that again." I turn back to the stove and crank up the heat to boil the water adding through my teeth, "Duo could've been killed because of me." That's what mattered most from that half-failed mission. And because of that, I think I'm less of a soldier. The mission should've come first. I'm not sure whether this sudden revelation is a good thing or not.

There is complete silence behind me. I glance over my shoulder, wondering what the hell is going on. Barton is giving me an unreadable look. Winner's mouth twitches and his lips roll together but I can tell he's fighting not to smile. And losing the battle. Quickly, I turn back to my pot.

"Where's Yuy?" I ask finally, unable to bear the grinning I know is going on behind me.

"Mission. He left yesterday," Barton says.

Winner hums, causing me to glance at them once more. They are exchanging glances again. Winner starts and gives me an odd sort of smile. I glare at them suspiciously. Something is going on here. Something I don't like.

"There's some coffee for Duo. Why don't you bring him some?" he finally suggest, turning away to fiddle with a printout on the table.

I continue to glare at them as I pour a cup for Duo and head to his room. I don't like this at all. What are those two bastards up to?

When I push open Duo's door, I catch him at his laptop.

"You're up…"

He yelps in surprise and backs away from the screen guiltily.

I arch a brow. "Here's your coffee."

"Thanks…"

"What's going on?"

He looks at his wall, sipping his coffee for several minutes. Then he sighs. "Another mission."

This is not good. He's not fit to go on another mission so soon. "Have you accepted it yet?"

He shakes his head. "Just got it."

I yank the laptop off his table.

"Hey!"

With a smirk, I saunter out the room with that infernal machine. I hear the '_thunk_' of him setting his mug down.

"Get back here with that, Wufei! Don't make me- _WAFFLES_!"

"That's going to make me give it back?" I shout over my shoulder, making a run for the kitchen. He chases after me.

"Give it back, Waffles, or so help me!"

Barton and Winner look up in surprise when I burst into the room and slam the laptop on the table in front of them. Duo stops in the doorway. I give the two of them a feral grin. "New mission for you guys. Hope you have a fucking good time."


	31. Chapter 31

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 31: **

Duo is beside himself laughing. What's truly unusual is that every few seconds he yelps in pain or mutters "ow". That doesn't seem to stop him, however.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"Y-y-_you!_" He slumps against the doorframe, yelping again, and slides to the ground, gripping his injured shoulder. Unsurprisingly, he is still overcome by hysterical laughter. "Their faces! That was _brilliant!_" He snorts and topples over sideways, laughter increasing.

I glance at Winner and Barton, who are both still looking at me with unexpected surprise. Well… they deserved it, after that mission. And it satisfies me more than just a little that I made Duo laugh at something other than my own idiocy. I resist the temptation to imitate him by bowing deeply. Instead, I cross the kitchen and hold out a hand to him.

"Come on. You need to take whatever it is that she-devil wants you to take."

"Aw, Waffles, do I _have_ to?" he whines childishly. However, he does take my hand.

As I pull him to his feet, I hear Barton mutter under his breath "Waffles?"

Beside me, Duo snickers. Oh wonderful. Just what I need. The others knowing that fucking nickname. I turn and glare at Barton. "If any of you call me that I swear on Nataku I'll string you up by your guts."

"Waffles is awfully violent, isn't he?"

"Duo!" Don't encourage the bastards!

He cackles madly. "Don't worry about it, Trowa. He's just very particular about who uses his beloved nicknames." He pats my back.

"Duo!"

A grin stretches across his face. "Yes, that _is _my name. How nice of you to remember! And I'll just go take that medication now." And he dashes from the kitchen before I can retort.

"Maybe you should help him," Winner says, grinning despite my throwing of Duo's mission in his and Barton's faces.

"They're just pills. He can take them himself."

"Yes, but maybe you should help him." His grin is as impish as some of the one's Duo as given me. And it's even worse than Duo's because it is not common to see on Winner's face.

"Quatre…" Barton mutters warningly.

"What?" He glances at him. "Fine, fine…"

I stare at them, feeling suspicious. But I go. How could I not? I just don't intend on using the excuse "I'm here to help you take your medicine!" How ridiculous do they think I am?

Duo looks up when I enter his room unannounced once again. He grins sheepishly and holds up his hands. "I promise I'm not secretly taking any missions in here. Scouts honor."

"Were you ever a scout?"

"Nope."

"Then that doesn't count!"

He shrugs absently. "Does if you're me."

I roll my eyes, sitting on the edge of his desk. He pops the antibiotic into his mouth and gulps it down with a large glass of water. I try not to squirm in discomfort. Watching his throat expand and contract as he drinks the water is very… erotic. Don't ask how. Don't ask why. I don't think I want to know myself.

Hastily, I look away before I get myself into trouble. Though I don't know why. He strikes me as the sort of person who always knows everything you _don't_ want him to know. From intuition or old-fashioned luck or something.

I'm too absorbed in my own inner monologue- something I really need to stop doing- so I don't realize he's speaking to me, until he jabs me sharply in the arm. Then he makes some wise-ass crack about this relationship not working if I don't start to listen to him. With a grimace, I rub my arm. "Sorry… what was that?"

"I was just kind of… wondering…" He pauses for so long that I have to prompt him to continue. "Wondering why… you know…" Awkwardly, he rubs the back of his neck. No, I don't know. Could he be any more vague? But then he continues before I point this out. "Why you waited to pull me out of that factory, instead of just taking off?"

I feel as though he has punched me in the gut, shoved his fist right into my diaphragm, knocking any useful air out of me. I am not ready for this question. I was expecting something more along the lines of "What do you think of coffee vs. tea?" or "Why do you think OZ hasn't given up yet?" or even "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

The only thing that makes it better is that he almost looks as awkward asking as I feel about answering. But it's only slightly. The question isn't incriminating, but the answer sure as hell could be.

I swallow hard. Why does he do this? Does he do it on purpose? Just to catch me in some awkward moment? He's put me in enough of them- though I can't hand him _all_ the blame… I put myself in plenty. But who knows? Maybe he's come to enjoy it? I wouldn't doubt it.

I am not really pleased at that thought.

This is hard. I always know what to say. I have an answer to everything, whether it is right or not to anyone but me is beside the point. So why can't I say anything? Where is my answer?

"I…"

I was afraid.

"Well…"

I didn't want to lose you.

"Hmm…"

I… love you.

My insides seize up. I can't tell him. I can't tell him _that_. Sure, I've sort of told him before. But I'm not even sure if he understood that. And I'm ashamed of myself. I'm _afraid _to tell him. As if telling him will ruin this… whatever it is that we have. Whatever it might be called.

"I didn't want to lose you to the likes of them." There. It's not a total lie. In fact, one could say that it is the truth. Just… not the complete truth.

Then why do I feel so nauseous?

I want him to understand that there is more to my response then that. Maybe he can read between the lines and, unearth, _somewhere_ in that cryptic mess, what I really mean. Why I lost my head.

"You would've gotten yourself killed over something like _that?_" he says, jabbing my arm again.

Or maybe not.

"Yeah… well…" is all I can say.

He claps my shoulder in a friendly sort of way. "Well thanks. I didn't really want to die like that either."

Dammit! I'm losing my chance!

"I…"

He looks at me questioningly. With those goddamned amazing eyes. I freeze again.

Don't look at me when I'm trying to tell you something important!

"If you want, I could rent a movie. We could watch it… later…"

Coward!

I am such an ass. I am ashamed of myself. I am a coward! Oh, the humiliation I would suffer if my clan could see me now.

Chang Wufei.

Elite soldier of the Dragon clan.

Champion of Justice (mostly).

Gundam Pilot 05.

Big.

Fucking.

Coward.

I am sorry, Nataku. Your pilot will probably be dead by the end of the night. Headlines will read 'Gundam Pilot 05 Kills Self Out of Shame at His Cowardice.' OZ will rejoice. That's one less Gundam to deal with. The world will move on.

Duo tilts his head. "Movie… that sounds fine."

I move to leave. "Anything in particular?"

He shrugs and gives me a half-grin. "I picked last time. I figure I can be good enough to concede to your choice this time."

"Ah… okay then… so… later?"

"Later," he agrees.

With that, I slip from his room and head back to the kitchen for my breakfast. I am such a fool. A coward. One sorry excuse of a man! I curse myself a dozen times.

"It's not your place to interfere…"

The unexpected voice- Barton's, I think- yanks me out of my own head. I pause just outside the doorframe. It seems as though Winner and Barton are having a discussion. I don't normally eavesdrop on my copilots as there is normally nothing worth overhearing anyway, but something about their behavior- particularly Winner's- prompts me to remain where I am. To eavesdrop.

I think my honor is extinct.

Winner sighs. "I know… But … when he let on that he changed his mind…"

"Quatre…" Barton's tone is warning. From the sound of his voice, I'm under the impression that they have had this conversation before.

"He deserves to know!"

"It's none of our business. Besides, how do we know-"

"He's not the sort to just sit around and wait."

There is silence in the kitchen then. Save for someone sighing loudly.

Finally Barton continues.

"I still think we should let it alone. No, wait. Let me finish. It _isn't_ our place. It's interfering. And no one likes that. Now… go pack. We got a mission, if you recall."

Winner chuckles. "I should've expected that."

I guess the odd conversation is over, but I'm even more confused now than I was before. I frown. But wait… Who changed his mind? Deserves to know what? What is Winner so obsessed about that is none of his business? My curiosity is ridiculous and unsatisfied.

Annoyed with myself, _and_ my own foolishness at eavesdropping in the first place (as if that would get me anywhere?), I head into the kitchen. There is a loud rustling and Winner and Barton look up guiltily. Well, Winner does. Barton looks the same as always.

"You okay, Wufei?" Winner asks.

I stare at him, furrowing my brow, and he squirms under the scrutiny. I want to laugh. He is terrible at hiding his guilt. "Fine. I'll be… fine."

Maybe I really will be.


	32. Chapter 32

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: A bit on the shorter side, but fluffy. So I think that makes up for the lack of length._

**Chapter 32: **

The movie I picked was an old suspense thriller- the sort that keeps the viewer on the edge of his seat without unnecessary, unrealistic gore and horror. Duo was surprised… said that he expected a kung-fu action flick from me. This earned him a firm whack on the back of the head before I popped the movie in and settled down to enjoy it. With him. Just the two of us.

It is about damned time.

It's halfway through the movie now. At some point, Duo dropped the popcorn bowl in my lap and curled up against my side, under my arm. I am not arguing with this arrangement. Not one bit.

The movie is decent. I'm no media buff, myself… but it holds my interest, which most visual media can't boast. Well… it does most of the time. Because every once in a while, my gaze drifts from the screen to… Duo. Who else? Besides my obsession with him, no one else is even in the safehouse. His eyes are fixed on the screen with a drowsy sort of fascination- I think the meds Dr. Po gave him is intended to knock him out. He's eating his popcorn a bit lazily, a kernel at a time, biting off every fluffy 'bubble' (for lack of a better term) before popping whatever remains into his mouth.

I bite my lip hard to prevent it, but a chuckle escapes. I guess I can't help it. The way he's eating that damned popcorn is hysterical.

"What's so funny?" he asks, stifling a yawn.

"Nothing…" I try to force a smile away but that just makes it worse. It's as if my face is _determined_ to smile at all costs.

"Well, it must be _something_ to pull a grin like that from you!" He jabs me in the ribs with his elbow.

I wince. "Watch it. There's still a bit of pain there."

"Ah… yeah… sorry. Forgot about that." He flutters his lashes in a way that is supposed to be sweet but we both know he's just being an ass. "You can poke my shoulder if you'd like."

"I could." But I won't.

Another fifteen minutes of movie time pass, with him eating his popcorn one kernel at a time and me just enjoying his presence without the interference of the others. I hate those others.

"So, what's your favorite color, Waffles?"

I blink in surprise. I didn't expect him to talk… I'm actually astounded he's still awake. "My what?"

"Color. Color. Favorite color."

"Why?"

He gives me a one-shoulder shrug. "We don't know any of that sort of stupid things about one another. I just thought it'd be interesting conversation. A sort of… Q&A of each other."

"Oh… um…" My brow furrows. I can't believe I have to really think about this.

"You've never thought about it before, have you?" He seems to find this incredibly humorous.

I grumble a vague 'no'. He chuckles again. Glancing down at him, I ask, "You have?"

He grins and shrugs. "No. Not really."

I'd smack him if I could. "All right then, what's yours?"

"Need more time to think of yours?"

I don't answer.

He laughs. "Right… Well, mine is… um… hmm… that _is_ difficult. No wait. I know. It's green. You know, that new sort of green that comes at the first of spring. Grass. New leaves. New plants."

"That you only see on Earth," I muse thoughtfully. There isn't a lot of natural greenery in the colonies. I've come to the conclusion that, though we all fight in defense of those colonies, Duo is particularly Earth-obsessed.

He nods. "Okay. Your turn."

My brow furrows as I think on this. Something so basic… a favorite color… which implies that it is a color I like to look at, that I would wear upon my person. "Brown," I finally say. "A very soft, subtle, quiet-looking brown."

"That's more of a tan, or beige, or… something."

"Whatever."

It continues like this for several minutes, asking each other stupid questions and getting equally stupid answers. But I find out a lot of random information about him- he could eat French fries for the rest of his life; his favorite planet is Uranus (for the color, he assures me… though with that grin of his, I doubt that is the only reason); he loves autumn; his favorite animal is the Manx cat, because he likes their lack of tail.

But soon our chatter fades and our attention is drawn to the movie once again. Duo returns to his popcorn, eating each piece in that slow, silly manner. I watch as he sticks a finger in his mouth and sucks off the popcorn's buttery, salty residue.

Why the hell does he do this? Does he do it on purpose? Is it just that I'm a sick bastard who needs to get a life?

Without thinking, I grab his hand away from his mouth. He turns and gives me an inquisitive look. Amazing…

I'm fighting a losing battle.

And do I give a damn?

Lifting his hand, I draw one of the digits into my mouth. I taste salt. Butter. Duo. I could die now a satisfied man. I watch him watching me. He stares at me, at his hand, at nothing at all, perhaps. His breathing is oddly irregular. Am I really doing this? To him? Am I really pulling this reaction from him? Is it really possible? Maybe. His lips, slightly parted, draw my attention next. Draw me in. I'm weak and powerless.

Dammit, I hate this about me.

…Hell, I don't even care anymore.

Leaning forward, I press my mouth to his. He opens up to me with no resistance. My tongue swipes his bottom lip and plunders into his mouth. Again, I taste the popcorn. And Duo. Plenty of perfect, amazing Duo. And I want more.

Maybe he's read my mind. He grabs my shirt and pulls me closer. I'm vaguely aware of the sound of the popcorn bowl hitting the floor. Duo turns his head away from mine for a moment. I groan in frustration.

"Aww man… the guys are going to be so pissed…" he says breathlessly. _I_ did that. I feel as though sparks are shooting through my veins.

I glance over to the fallen bowl. Popcorn is scattered everywhere. Probably staining the carpet. Maybe it will get ground in.

Fuck the popcorn.

"We can pick it up later," I grumble against his skin. I touch and I taste. I find a spot just below his ear that draws out the most wonderful sounds from the back of his throat. He is responding to me. Positively. He is not pushing me away. I don't deserve this. But I will be selfish and greedy for once in my life. I will take. I will devour.

His mouth his mine again. And this time, he is kissing me back. Wonderfully. Pulling me closer. I can't get close enough. His fingers drift across the back of my neck, causing me to shudder violently.

I want him.

I want him.

I _want_ him.

His body strains to the side, as if he's trying to get off the couch. But he doesn't break the kiss, so why should I?

He lurches suddenly and the two of us roll straight off the couch. Right into the popcorn. It crunches beneath us. It's ground straight into the carpet. Dammit… this is not going to be fun to clean up.

"Ouch…" I groan. Duo's elbow had slammed into my ribs when we fell. Have I ever mentioned how sharp his elbows are?

He simply gives a pained gasp for air and rolls off me, flinging the popcorn bowl aside. So that is what he was reaching for.

He could've just let it go.

No, I guess not.

We simply lay there for a moment, side by side, trying to dissipate the pain. Trying to breathe. Trying to get my bearings back.

Beside me, Duo makes a faint sound. I glance at him. He's quaking. His face is a brilliant shade of red.

"_Tsch!_"

I stare at him in disbelief. "Are you… _laughing?_"

"Nng… N-_no!_" he squeaks. Yes. Squeaks. And that is the last straw. With a loud snort he rolls onto his side, laughing hysterically.

I look at him sternly… I can feel my shoulders quake. It's trying to bubble out of me. But someone has to be the sane one here. With effort, I try to increase the severity of my expression.

Suddenly, Duo let's out a loud snort of laughter. And that's the last straw. I can't hold it any longer.

Composure… breaking.

My ribs feel like they are going to crack again under the force. I choke and burst into loud and completely side-splitting laughter, slumping next to him.


	33. Chapter 33

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: I'd like to thank my reader/reviewer 'Mama' for reviewing since it was annonymous and I couldn't give a personal thanks through email! So... thank you for the wonderful review!_

**Chapter 33:**

The rest of the movie is basically forgotten as Duo and I set to cleaning the popcorn out of the carpet. Courtesy of Duo, it has become somewhat of a game, seeing who would get the most pieces back into the bowl (while keeping them out of our hair, as he had started throwing it at me, first thing). He won the actual popcorn-into-the-bowl 'contest', but I managed to get more popcorn in his hair. Not too hard, considering he has more hair than I do. Amazing hair, the hair guy reminds me.

Currently, he's giving me a broad grin. Duo, I mean.

I arch a brow slightly. "What?"

"I've never heard you laugh quite that much."

"Eh?"

He ducks his head and looks away. "It was… kind of nice. You should laugh more often. It's a good stress relief, if nothing else."

His words make me feel warm inside and, while I feel like an ass admitting it, it is… a very nice feeling.

I seize a kernel from the bowl and throw it at him. It bounces off the side of his face. When he looks at me, I do my best to give him an innocent look. I suppose it doesn't work because he gives me a maliciously gleeful look and plunges his hand into the bowl. With a laugh and a subsequent yelp, I roll backwards in attempt to avoid the fistful of kernels he throws at me.

The popcorn war is on.

I lunge for the bowl, seizing a handful of popcorn to throw at him. But he is a step ahead of me. He snatches the bowl as I am reaching into it and consequently drags me flat on my stomach. He then upturns the bowl and showers me with popcorn and the hard little seeds. I scramble to my feet, crunching several kernels into the carpet once again, and fling a handful I manage to seize at him. With a laugh, he dodges, crouching to scoop up more and throw it back.

The 'war' goes on for several minutes more and the popcorn gets crushed to smaller and smaller pieces, until all that remains of it is millions of miniscule fragments that look like bits of edible snow. Duo's hair is dotted with the tiny pieces, making it look as though he has severely magnified dandruff. Bits of my hair have been pulled out of its ponytail and it, with bits of popcorn as well, swings in my face so I imagine I look just as bad. The 'war' itself ends when I trip over my own two feet. Some Gundam pilot I am. When he looks up to see me, he snickers.

"I _know_ you're not laughing at me. Again." I lunge and make a grab for his feet.

"_Oh_ no." He dances out of my reach. "If you think you're dragging me down, you've got another thing-"

I've lunged forward and clamp my hands around his ankle. Victory is mine! With a mighty tug, I drag him onto the ground with me. He falls, yelping, but seconds later, is laughing again.

"You were saying?" I yelp too when I feel his hand (or, to be more accurate- his fistful of popcorn pieces) hit the back of my head. He proceeds to tangle the popcorn in my hair.

"Hey, hey, heyhey_hey!_" With a bit of a struggle, I manage to pin him to the ground. I am pleased that I am stronger than him. I have to have _something_ over him. He wriggles beneath me, but I manage to hold him. Victory is mine!

"_Waffles!_" he protests. Though it's hard to be certain if he actually says that because he's laughing so hard.

Of course, all that laughter doesn't help his cause.

Unexpectedly, he breaks the grip I have on one of his wrists and twines his hand in my shirt. I only have time to yelp "What-!" before he hauls me down onto him and gives me an unexpectedly soft kiss.

If he thinks he can get away with just that, he has another thing coming. I'm down on him again, deepening the kiss. It's even better than before, because he was the one to instigate it. Because he's not doing _anything_ to pull away this time.

Goddammit… I don't deserve him.

My fingers curl deep into his hair and the hair guy is satiated. Hell, _I_ am.

He makes an exquisite noise in the back of his throat and pulls me closer.

I really don't deserve him.

His fingers run across the back of my neck, encouraging me onwards. I don't need any fucking encouragement. I can encourage myself just fine. Not that I really mind…

That's when I hear it. A faint noise that sounds like…

_Tap… tap… tap_.

What the hell?

_Tap… tap… tap_.

Is that… tapping?

_Tap…tap… tap… tap_.

I pull back from the kiss and Duo and I exchange puzzled glances. So it's not him…

I look over my shoulder in the direction of the tapping noise. Oh. Fuck.

"Hee-Heero!" Duo squawks, pulling out from beneath me. His face is a brilliant shade of red.

Yuy is glowering over us. Tapping his foot impatiently. Which means that's where the "tapping" came from.

I will kill him.

I will kill him.

I will strangle him by his bed sheets.

I will impale him with a butter knife.

I will poison his breakfast.

I promise to Nataku that he will die by my hand.

Oh?

You think I'm kidding?

Duo scrambles away from me, eyes on Yuy. My ego deflates completely.

"Do you mind?" Yuy says flatly. His gaze travels from me, to Duo, to the popcorn on the floor.

Yes. As a matter of fact, I _do_ fucking mind! "You're back earlier than expected," I mutter. I guess I was hoping he'd die on that mission… Wait, let me rephrase that. I _know_ I was hoping he'd die.

He simply continues to glower at me. I fully intend to match that glare but, at the last moment, I feel something cold bump my arm. Glancing over, I see Duo holding out the popcorn bowl. Nudging me with it.

"We'll clean up," he says, glancing at Yuy.

I glance from him to Yuy and back again. Duo's staring. At him.

Is that longing in his eyes?

Of course it is… I'm just the stand in, the replacement, the one who's good to have around until someone better comes around, remember?

"Be sure that you do," Yuy finally says, turning sharply on his heel and heading towards the hall.

I glance at Duo. His gaze follows Yuy out the room. I feel as though I've been punched repeatedly in the gut. And it's only just getting started.

"You go take your meds," I say gruffly. I scoop up a handful of popcorn crumbs. "I'll finish this." I don't look at him. I can't. I'll see something I don't want to see. I'm afraid I'll do something stupid.

"Wufei…"

I wave him off. I don't want to hear anything right now. I just want to be alone. Maybe so I can wallow in my pity, even though I don't believe in doing so. I don't say this, however. "Don't worry about it. I can handle this. You should be resting. Dr. Po will have your guts for garters if she finds out you haven't been."

There is silence. Then I hear him heave a sigh. Soft footfalls head away from me. A minute or so later, I glance over my shoulder. He is gone.

With a sigh of my own, I slump against the couch. Injustice… Instead of justice, I must deal injustice. That's the reason I…

I sigh again, dropping my head into my hands. I can't even muster up the energy to come up with a vehement diatribe concerning my situation. This is ridiculous. I am being ridiculous. I already _knew_ he felt this way.

Amid the sound of the movie credits rolling, I begin to clean up the mess. It's time consuming and obnoxious. I have to pry the popcorn seeds out of the carpet's pile and the butter leaves faint stains in some locations. This won't be good when we have to leave the safehouse. Rule number one: never leave behind evidence you stayed in any specific location. Unfortunately, cleaning up still doesn't distract me from my own head.

I thought I had tried hard enough. I thought it was working. I was no master at relationships, and I sure as hell couldn't seduce someone to save my life but… I thought Duo was forgetting. I thought maybe he was starting to feel the same for me.

Apparently not.

Apparently… he _still_ loves Yuy. No real question there. The thought makes me want to shout with anger and to curl up and die at the same time.

Dammit! I thought he was forgetting!

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit to infinity!

With an angry growl under my breath, I fling handful after handful of popcorn into the bowl. Fucking great and wonderful shitty joy. Could it get any better? I think that with the utmost sarcasm. With my luck, Yuy would change his mind about his feelings for Duo!

My fingertips are starting to feel greasy and raw. I'm in the middle of clawing the remaining bits of corn out of the carpet when that thought floats unbidden into my mind. And I freeze.

"_It's not your place to interfere…"_

"_I know… But … when he let on that he changed his mind…"_

That conversation between Barton and Winner… It feels as though my stomach has fallen to my feet.

It's a classic case of Murphy's Law.

I should've _known_ it was too perfect to last. I don't know why I didn't see it sooner.

No! It's wrong! It has to be wrong! It's not fair…

Yuy changed his mind.

Getting up, I headed for the kitchen, trashed the remains of the popcorn, and washed the bowl. I guess it's time to admit that I'm a bit of a neat freak, especially when I have a lot on my mind. It keeps me busy. Sadly, a single bowl is just a single bowl and it only keeps one busy for a short amount of time. I dry the bowl and store it in the cabinet and then head for my room. I get ready for bed, trying to keep my mind blank as I brush my teeth and strip down to my boxers, donning a pair of sweats before climbing into bed. Resting neatly on top of _Oz For Dummies_ is an old copy of a book on the history of China (it's hard to imagine my clan on Earth), which I read and re-read from time to time. I do so now. Anything to distract me.

I've read for perhaps an hour when there is a knock on the door. I frown as my eyes skim paragraphs but fail to absorb the information I'm so familiar with. The only two people it could be are Yuy or Duo. I don't really expect either.

"Enter," I finally say, when my visitor knocks again.

I look up when the door slides open and my guest steps in.

I blink. "Duo…" I am close to dropping my book in surprise. There he is, looking as drowsy as hell (and slightly irritated), clutching his pillow to his chest in a death grip. His hair is a shocking mess and he blinks at me groggily.

"What are you doing in here?" I finally manage to stupidly ask.

"I couldn't sleep," he grumbles. I am surprised. From the looks of it, he should've been out the second his head hit the pillow. Apparently Po's pills don't work as effectively as they should on Gundam pilots.

"Oh." Again with my stupidity.

He stalks over, glares blearily at me, and flicks his hand at me. I, in turn, give him a blank look. Then he whacks me over the head with his pillow.

"Duo!" I yell, swatting it away.

"You started it. Move over," he says, becoming increasingly peevish, grabbing my shoulder and shoving me over. I nearly smack my head on the wall because of him.

I started what? What the hell is he talking about? Is his medicine doing the talking for him? If I recall correctly, I started nothing!

He drops his pillow onto my bed and clambers in next to me. My bed is a double- something I normally wouldn't indulge in- but it's just barely big enough for the two of us. I am just lucky that I am lean and he is even leaner.

"Duo, what-?"

"Quiet," he grumbles, thumping his head onto his pillow. "No more talking. I need to sleep. I am going to sleep in here." He ends this by pulling my blankets over his head.

Now this is an unexpected turn of events.


	34. Chapter 34

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: I must say… I was very astounded and excited about the reaction to the previous chapter! Not even 24 hours after I had posted it, I already had six reviews! And that chapter has, of this posting, acquired a record of 13 reviews! Two records for me! It's really inspiring!_

_Also, per my reader/reviewer NekuYasha, I found out that the end of Chapter 26 was missing. I don't know how long it has been this way, but it has been fixed._

_Also! I have a new story up (complete with two chapters thus far) entitled To Be You (title pending), so if you're feeling up to it, check it out._

**Chapter 34:**

Duo had fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow, as I thought would have happened in his own room before he came to assault me with that pillow. That was an hour ago. I'm still reading my book, but my attention keeps straying to Duo. He is no longer hiding beneath my blankets. About half an hour ago, he'd shifted in his sleep restlessly until his head became visible. Now he is curled up with the blankets tucked firmly under his chin.

I get the feeling he's being a restless sleeper on purpose. He's kicked me once already.

With a sigh, I turn the page in my book. Beside me, Duo groans.

"God Wufei, just turn off the light and go to sleep already!"

I frown slightly. "You're awake?"

He just slightly cracks an eye open at me. "I am now. You're a noisy reader," he grumbles. I'm forcefully reminded of an extremely grouchy child.

"Well you kicked me!" I shoot back.

"Yeah, well I was hoping you'd get the hint."

So he _was_ doing it on purpose! I don't know whether to be amused or annoyed. So, I take the easy way, and I am a little of both. I look down at him, cocooned in my blankets, and give him a stern look. "I'll go to sleep when I damn well feel like it." I turn back to my book.

Only to find it snatched out of my hands. A loud slap tells me it's been flung clear across the room.

"_Duo!_"

"I'm so tired I think these meds are killing me in their attempt to make me go to sleep, but I _can't_ sleep with that light on. Just turn it off and go to sleep!" He makes a face at me. "Or I'll kick you again."

"Yes sir," I mutter, reaching over to flick the switch. The room plunges into darkness.

The mattress depresses and lurches as Duo flops around. I'm about to ask just what the fuck he thinks he's doing when I feel something strike me in the chest. His back. I'd berate him if I could breathe. But I take the not-so-subtle hint. Rolling onto my side, I press up against his back and slip my arm around his waist. He twines his fingers with mine and murmurs a drowsy "'Night, Waffles."

As I repeat his sentiments, sans that damned _Waffles_, something occurs to me.

He chose me over Yuy.

The thought makes me smile like a damned fool. Grateful it's dark and he's asleep so he can't see it, I burrow closer to him. I smell popcorn and chamomile.

He chose _me_ over Yuy.

----

I jerk awake. With an irritated sigh, I lift my head and look around, wondering what the hell just woke me. I see nothing. Rolling onto my back, I sink into the warm recess where Duo had been sleeping and I drag my hand over my face. Then I pause, staring at the ceiling. I glance left, then right.

Gone. He's gone.

Damn him.

My gaze drifts to the alarm clock. The glowing green numbers make me squint. 11:24 a.m. I groan, sitting up. True, I hate mornings, but I've never roused this late before. No wonder I felt like shit.

I stagger clumsily out of bed. My foot thumps against Duo's pillow, which has been tossed carelessly on the ground. I pick it up. But instead of being irritated by his sloppiness, like I would normally be if someone took the liberty of throwing their crap around my room, I wonder if this is a good sign. He might not be in the room, but he intends to return. Maybe?

I'm somewhat reassured. After all, nothing is certain.

Like an ass, I smile to myself. Not certain, perhaps, but it's a possibility. I suddenly find myself open to those possibilities. And where those possibilities might lead.

I pull a shirt on over my head and pad barefoot to the kitchenette.

"Morning, Waffles," Duo says through a yawn, over the brim of a chipped coffee mug. A newspaper is spread out before him.

Yuy is sitting next to him. He looks up at me, blinks once, and looks back down at the report he's writing. It was a disinterested sort of glance. The sort that read: 'Oh, it stopped raining'; 'Oh, the wall before me is white'; 'Oh, Wufei just walked into the room.'

I think I deserve an award the scowl I resist giving him. And I know just who should deliver it to my door…

Oh, for fuck's sake, knock it off! It's too early in the morning- er… almost noon- to be thinking like this.

"Morning," I finally reply. I ignore Yuy, as he is ignoring me. Crossing the kitchen, I start to make some breakfast for myself. "Anything interesting in the paper?"

"Reports on our last strike. Mostly speculation," Duo replies. I hear the rustle of the newspaper. "And high school soccer is starting tonight… I haven't played in ages." He sounds wistful.

I glance over my shoulder at him. He's reading an article, maybe about the upcoming game. Maybe not. Still next to Yuy. I don't want him next to Yuy…

I turn back to my breakfast. "Would you like to go see it?"

"Huh?"

"The game. Want to see it?"

"With you?"

No, with the cat-lady down the street. Of course me! I nod. And no, I'm not trying to get him as far away from Yuy as possible.

Okay… so I'm lying. If he has changed his mind about Duo, I don't want to give him the chance to act upon it. Though I should give Duo the chance to choose between us. Unfortunately, I'm ninety percent convinced I know whom he'd choose.

"Sure!"

Really? My goodness, I'm losing touch with myself, I suppose. Composing myself so I don't sound like an ass, I inquire about the time. Around six, he says. And he sounds pleased.

Okay, maybe I'm _really_ losing touch with myself. Oddly, I don't mind.

Unfortunately, with the way my mind is going, I don't think I'll be paying much attention to the soccer game tonight.

----

Duo managed to talk me back into a pair of jeans for the soccer game by warning me that my usual apparel might make someone think I'm either an assassin or a young talent scout. I was skeptical of his reasoning- my opinion is he just wants me as uncomfortable as possible- but I don't want to risk it. I don't mix well with my peers.

Currently we are sprawled in the grass on the old blanket Duo had dragged off his bed and to the game. He's watching the game, sprawled across my lap. A few passersby have given us the odd look but no words are exchanged so I let it go. Besides, Duo is enjoying this game. Occasionally, when one team scores, he lets out a cheer with the rest of the crowd. Once or twice he's come close to punching me in the jaw.

Absently, I rake my fingers through the top of his braid. He lets me do this and the hair guy curls up, purring inside me like a big dumb happy cat. I don't care for the game as much because I don't have an interest in sports like these. But Duo's there. My mind has proven it can be fairly… entertaining, when it wants to be. So, yeah, I'm enjoying myself too.

Suddenly, Duo lets out a victorious shout as one of the guys in red scores.

"I thought you were cheering for the blue team."

"I was."

I arch a brow, skeptical. "Maybe you didn't notice, but that kid was wearing red."

He laughs. "Maybe _you _didn't notice. I'm cheering for whoever's winning. I have no ties to either team, so it doesn't matter to me." He shifts across my lap. "Can you still feel your legs? I can move if you want."

I latch tightly onto his braid as if that will keep him there. "No. Stay."

He grins. "Oh boy oh boy! Shall I bark and lick your cheek and jump all over you, wagging my tail?"

"Save the barking. But you can do the other two." It is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Instantly, heat flares in my face. Duo gapes at me for a moment.

"Waffles! You dirty bastard!"

"I… ah… sorry?"

With a chuckle, he shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. I never thought I'd hear something like that coming from you?" He laughs again. "Oh God Wufei… That was hilarious."

"At least someone got a laugh out of it," I mutter, trying to force down my blush.

He glances up at me. "Are you having a decent time?"

I blink. Me? Having a good time? Yuy is nowhere in sight, Duo is laying all over _me_, and my fingers are tangled in hair. Did he really have to ask? "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Good. We're all going to have to play a game one day," he said, gesturing to the one before us.

"But there are five of us. The teams will be uneven."

"One can be the ref. Or Heero can be both goalies. He's probably unstoppable when you get down to it."

I frown at the mention of Yuy's name. Apparently, out of sight is _not_ out of mind. Whoever made up those fucking sayings needs to be shot. Repeatedly. Because they're all goddamned lies!

"You really like this game, hmm?"

"This one? It's all right. I could probably beat all of them."

I roll my eyes. Confident much? "I meant soccer in general."

"Of course you did." He shrugs. "Yeah. I guess I do." He looks wistfully out to the field. "If we were… you know… _normal_ I'd try out for a school team or something. But I doubt most coaches would take 'kicking OZ's ass' as an acceptable excuse for missing practice or a big game."

His words weigh heavy in my mind as we continue to watch the game in otherwise comfortable silence. Normal? I can't even picture it. I've always learned that there is no such thing as _normal_, and I've believed it thus far. But when he pointed that out, it became obvious that we pilots are _not _'normal'. How many kids fight war on their own? Not a lot that I've seen lately.

Duo cheers again and his fist flies in the air, narrowly missing my jaw and my thoughts are brought back to the present. With me, Duo, and this silly game.

----

The game ended just past dusk, with the red team beating the blue team by two points. Don't ask what school they came from or what mascots they had. I don't know and I don't really care.

It's dark now, as Duo and I head home. We had stopped at the club we visited not so long ago, when Duo told Yuy how he felt, and had a few 'celebratory' drinks, as he called them. Not enough to get totally drunk, but we were both feeling mighty fine with ourselves by the time we left.

"You should've let me kick that guy's ass, Waffles!" Duo grumbles as we head down the front walk of the safehouse.

"I couldn't." I shrug. He's been ranting about this the entire walk 'home'. "If word got out that some skinny sixteen year old throttled a guy twice his size and probably three times his weight, people would get a little curious. They might start looking for any more unusual occurrences. Then we'd have to pack our bags and get the hell out of here. And that would be bad, considering this has been a pretty good base for us. Very little OZ activity going on around this town, but within a reasonable distance to most locations where there is more."

He sighs loudly. "I just hate it when people mistake me for a girl."

"You've already said that. Cut your hair then." I can't believe I'm bold enough to suggest that again.

"No! Are you crazy!"

Yes. That fact has been established many, many times already. But that's beside the point.

He peers up at me. "Besides, I happen to have it on good authority that you are as obsessed with my hair as I am," he adds with a grin.

"Shut up…"

"It's true!" he sings as we head up the steps and through the door.

I snatch his braid and pull him back into a kiss. He tastes like beer and Duo. Of course he tastes like that.

Without another word between the two of us, we head down the hall. I enter my room and, to my vague surprise, he follows. Before I can question his motive, he is pushing up into my arms, kissing me hard.

Oh god… oh god… oh god…

I can feel our bodies maneuvering backwards. And he's not the only one doing it.

I can't stop him.

I won't stop him

I just _want_ him.

This must be a dream. I'm going to wake up and this won't be happening. I'd probably have to go jump off a bridge if that is true… I break the kiss. "Duo," I gasp. "You're drunk. _I'm _drunk." Well, tipsy. But who's keeping track?

His arms snake around my neck. "I know what I'm doing," he says in a husky voice, barely a hair's breadth away. That tone in his voice makes my nerves sing. "I think you do too." His mouth crushes against mine.

I pull him flush against me, returning the kiss with intensity. Justice, if this is your way of apologizing for all the bullshit I've been put through, I accept.


	35. Chapter 35

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Well, this chapter was a bit difficult to write as it was my first time writing (and completing) a lemon…ish scene. It's pretty vague, I'm not certain you can call it a lemon. Maybe lemonade. Or limeade. Or orange soda. –laughs- Anyway, I doubt this merits a rating change, so it will stay 'Teen' unless anyone thinks it requires a 'Mature'. (I imagine it probably did before this chapter, with Waffles' foul mouth, but I digress.) Regardless, I am absolutely, horridly abysmal when it comes to writing lemonish-ness so… you've been warned._

**Chapter 35:**

At some point, Duo lost his faded t-shirt. I can't recall when this happened because my entire focus is on _him_. On what he's doing. On how he tastes. On what I can do to him. There is room for nothing else.

I feel icy fingertips draw up my spine. I draw back, hissing an oath as thousands of goose bumps race over my skin. That was fucking cold! Duo laughs breathlessly, and I realize that I need to catch my breath as well. Damn the need for air! I feel his icy fingers draw my own shirt over my head. The moment the offending fabric is gone, I swoop down again. Breathe? Who am I kidding? This is Duo. He overrides the need to breathe.

I explore his skin with mouth and fingertips, drawing moans and growls and other incredible reactions from him. I could probably do this all day, if my entire body didn't ache to make him mine.

"Oh God Wufei…"

I _want _him.

I capture his mouth again. He squirms exquisitely beneath me. His arms snake around my neck and his skin is smooth, save for the occasional ridge of a battle scar. It's everything that makes up Duo.

I suddenly feel a sharp tug at the back of my head.

"What the fuck?" I squawk, propping myself up on my arms over him. I feel my hair fall loose, brushing across my shoulders.

I feel Duo wince beneath me. "Sorry, just wanted to see what you looked like with it down."

I reach up and stuff some of the errant strands behind my ear. So help me… if he killed the mood, I will probably kill him… Like I haven't threatened that before. And here he is, alive and kicking. "It's too dark in here to really see."

"I have excellent night vision." I can hear the grin in his voice.

"Idiot."

"But a lovable idiot, right?" His fingers push through my hair. An unexpected shiver runs down my spine. That is fucking amazing…

"Mmm," is about all the agreement I can make. I kiss him again. So he didn't kill the mood this time. His fingers curl into my hair and little shocks are sent straight to my groin. Which certainly didn't need any help.

I roll my hips into his and he groans. Not the wisest of actions on my part, because it just makes my need worse. His hands leave my hair and drop to my hips. His fingers trace the waistband of those infernal jeans and fumble with the button.

"Jeans are the best, hmm?" I murmur in his ear with a malicious grin, echoing his words earlier that evening.

"Shut up!" he whines.

I grin to myself, nuzzling his neck. I make quick work of his jeans- but I decide then and there that jeans are the biggest pain in the ass I've ever come across. Er… no pun intended. On that entire phrase…

And we are skin-to-skin. I don't know exactly when it happened. I don't even care. There is just _him._ His body presses against mine. His skin is damp with sweat. As is mine. My hair is sticking to the back of my neck. And _I don't care_.

I nudge his legs apart with one knee and settle between them. He allows it. I touch and I taste, going purely on instinct, but instinct knows what to do. The spot just behind his ear. The one just below his bellybutton. Spots I can torment him into mindless bliss if I so choose, found by that instinct. I suddenly love this undefined entity called 'instinct'.

I reach in towards my night table, in a drawer, for the little tube I received as a gag gift maybe a year or so ago. Probably from Duo. I can't remember. And I can't believe I kept it… But I'm not going to argue that now. Cap gone. Gel on my fingertips. My fingers trace over his entrance and push inside. He's tense. But he won't be for long. I work until he groans loudly, pushing his body against mine.

"Goddammit Wufei, stop… teasing me!"

His fingers, which had been clutching the sheets, sink into my sweaty hair and pull me down for a kiss. I comply. I stop teasing. Duo whimpers into the kiss.

Everything about him is amazing.

My hands lock on to his slim hips and I thrust into him. He breaks the kiss with a shout, arching off the bed. I guess I should've been more careful. But my mind is spinning. His body clenches around mine. After a moment, I intend to ask if he's okay, but he moves. Encourages me to move. Draws me closer, deeper, wrapping his legs around me. And my question comes out as "_haaap_…"

I never said I was particularly eloquent.

So I move. And _he_ moves. Oh how he moves. I hit a particularly sensitive spot and he yelps out obscenities that would likely have his deceased caregivers rolling in their graves.

But he's not in pain. I realize that this is a good spot to keep in mind. So I attempt to find it again. And I do.

Oh fuck I can't stand it…

It's quick. With a strangled sound, between a gasp and a yell, he comes. Perfect. Beautiful. Amazing. As if I don't say it enough. My own body tenses and I give in.

I won't say it is the best executed of sexual encounters. I was clumsy, to be certain. But as I collapse onto him, feeling completely boneless in the sticky, sweaty mess of our bodies, the both of us trying to remember what the word 'breathe' means, I realize I certainly wouldn't mind trying to… ah… improve.

I could die.

Happy.

Right now.

Gingerly, I extricate myself from Duo's body. Both of us wince. Then I plop onto my pillow next to him. I feel like a bowl of jelly. I can't believe I even _tried_ to move. I glance over at him, though I can't see much more than his outline in the dark. "Are you okay?" I finally ask.

"Mm… yes." I hear him sigh loudly. "Oh God… more than okay…" he moans. "But I don't think I'll be able to move for the rest of my life."

With a snort, I grab his sweaty shoulder and shove. He yelps and I hear a thump on the ground. I blink. Did I really just shove him off the bed? Reaching over to my night table, I flip on the light. And am nearly blinded for a second.

Yes. I did shove him off the bed. And there he is, in a crumpled heap of some of my sheets, laughing weakly. Because of me, his hair is atrocious, more of it out of the braid than in it. And it looks sticky as well. I guess that is the meaning of 'sex hair'.

"I'd kill you if… if I thought I could," he gasps.

"You probably could. I don't think I can move much… Even if these sheets _are_ a sticky mess." I peel one of the said sheets off my stomach.

Duo laughs again and grabs the tail of his braid. His nose wrinkles. How utterly juvenile an expression. And thusly, I stupidly find it endearing. "I think… I'm going to shower, if you don't mind me using yours."

"No, I think I'll make you walk out of here butt-naked to use your own."

He stares at me and then cracks a grin. "Why Waffles, was that a joke?"

I groan and bury my face in my pillow. "Just shower." I fling my hand in the general direction of the bathroom. I feel the bed depress and his lips brush against my shoulder before the bathroom door clicks shut.

I guess now would be a good time to change the sheets. I've pulled the sheets off the mattress and discarded them in a neat heap at the foot of my bed when the sound of running water fills the room louder than it should. I glance up. Duo is peering out from the bathroom, beckoning me with his index finger. I give him my best 'bewildered' look.

He grins, taking on an impish appearance. "I'm trying to be eco-friendly. Save water. Shower together." When I don't respond immediately, he smacks my wall impatiently. "Come on, Waffles." He winks and holds out his hand. "Join me."

His request is impossible for me to deny. As if I could deny him anything. Crossing the room, I take his hand and he pulls me into the bathroom, which is already steaming up.

"How hot do you have the water?"

"Hey, I get cold easily." He steps into the shower and pulls me in after. His hands are moving over my skin and I am anything _but _cold.

"How can you be cold after-"

"Just humor me."

Will do.

Grabbing the tail of his braid, I turn him around and begin to unwind it. The braid. Reaching over his shoulder, I grab my shampoo and dangle it in front of his eyes. "All I have is this."

He shrugs and gives me a sleepy sort of grin. "As long as it doesn't dry my hair out, it'll be fine."

So I proceed to wash that wonderful hair of his. The hair guy is either dead or in a catatonic state from getting everything _he _wanted. That I wanted to, I'll admit as I massage the shampoo into his scalp. Washing another's hair is odd for me. But I swear that if Duo was a cat, he'd be purring.

Then comes soap. It starts out innocently. But eventually I forget to wash and simply begin to explore every nook and cranny of Duo's body. It does me no good that he's doing the same to me. Soon, the bathroom is filled breathless gasps and moans.

And I can't stand it.

I push him back against the tiled shower wall. "_Cold!_" he squawks.

But I crush my mouth against his, silencing him. I pull his legs up around my waist and he seems to melt in my arms.

Do I even have to say it?

I take him again. His fingers dig into my skin and his head drops onto my shoulder as he gasps my name like his own personal mantra. It's quick once again, though whether it's because of personal inexperience or because we were so aroused in the first place, I'm not sure.

I lean against Duo against the wall under the cooling spray of water. Our heavy breathing mingles. I don't think I'll be able to move, but somehow I manage it. I let him down and we both sag against the wall.

"I'll never look at a shower the same again," he points out as finally we rinse off. Again.

"I'd shove you again if I had the strength. And if I was sure I wouldn't shove you straight out of the shower…"

He chuckles and, leaning in, presses his lips against the corner of my jaw. If I had any energy left at all, I'd probably give _some _sort of reaction other than a faint smile.

"Is sex all it takes to get a smile from you?"

"Duo!" He makes me sound like a fucking pervert!

He grins. "Just teasing, Waffles. Okay, I'm getting out now. The water is getting freezing."

As he moves to leave, I grab his arm. Turning his wrist out, I press my lips against his pulse. It jumps under the contact. And I'm ecstatic that _I_ am the one to cause that reaction within him.

Okay, so maybe I _am_ a pervert.

"Go on. I'm getting cold."

He nods dazedly and then steps out of the shower. I crank off the increasingly chilly water and, taking a deep, calming breath, follow. We towel off- I make sure to keep my eyes askance, as I'm not so sure that, despite my exhaustion, I'd be able to keep away.

After wrapping a towel around his waist, Duo grabs my hairbrush and proceeds to rake it through his hair- something that would bother me to no end… But he's gotten away with a _lot _that would bother me. As long as he doesn't leave clumps of hair tangled in the bristles. I doubt even the hair guy would appreciate that.

Wrapping a towel around my own waist, I head back into my room, to get somewhat dressed and remake my bed. As I am firmly tucking in the top sheet, I hear a dull roar. Grabbing a spare pair of boxers, I head back into the bathroom. And there he is, drying his hair with what I suppose is his hairdryer because I don't own one.

"When did that get in here?" I shout over the noise. I hold out the spare boxers to him.

He grins, turning it off. His hair hangs in smooth wet strands down his back. I never realized how long it is. "The hairdryer fairy." He rolls his eyes, taking the garment. "I er… brought it in here this morning. I'm surprised you didn't wake up. If I was an assassin, I could've killed you."

I frown. "Yes, you could've…"

He drops the towel unexpectedly but, both to my advantage and disadvantage, he hauls the boxers on quickly after that. Then he reaches over to grab his dryer again, but I snag it for him and motion for him to sit on the toilet.

"I'll do it."

He arches a brow. "You sure? It's a pain in the ass to dry. You'll probably get a crick in your arm."

"Shut up and sit already."

"Sir yes sir." He gives me a salute and a cheeky wink and plops down.

I separate his hair into several ropes before I start. And I dry. And dry. And dry a bit more. And still, his hair is more than half wet. The bathroom is starting to get hot, so I have to stop and crack the door open.

"I told you."

But I diligently persevere. The dry strands are smooth and soft and knowing that the rest of his hair will be the same once dry helps spur me on. Eventually, Duo's shoulders slump and I realize he's fallen asleep. How he manages this is beyond me.

And still I dry.

Suddenly, the damned little dryer shuts off. Duo starts awake.

"What's going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know." I stick the infernal device under his nose. "It just shut off. Why?"

He yawns. "Oh, that. It's reliable, but old. It overheats. You have to let it cool off for about ten minutes."

Well, it will give my arm a rest.

And partway through the wait, he falls back asleep again.

When approximately ten minutes have passed, I start the dryer up again. It manages to overheat at least twice more before his hair is finally deemed dry. And at long last, I simply touch. Combing my fingers through the warm volumes of chestnut hair. The hair guy approves. _Very _much. So he's not dead after all.

Duo stirs awake again. "Done?" he asks, blinking drowsily at me. I nod. He holds out a hand. "Give me my hair tie."

"Do I have to?" I ask, curling my fingers in the warm strands. I'd rather just sit here and run my fingers through it the rest of the night.

He grins sleepily. "Yes. If I don't braid it, it will be a rat's nest by morning… And that won't be fun to brush out."

With a sigh, I concede and hand over the tie. With three flicks of his wrist, his hair is separated into three equal parts and he braids it quicker than I thought was possible, particularly in his drowsy state. Then he stands and staggers against the wall. He yawns hugely. Drowsy indeed.

Going over, I scoop one arm under his legs and pick him up. He shouts with laughter. "Wu_fei_! I can walk, you know!"

"So you say."

His head flops back as his laughter increases. "Waffles! Put me down, I'm no blushing bride to be!"

So I put him down (or drop him, actually), on my bed, and crawl up next to him with a yawn of my own. "I'm worn out. What about you?"

"I am too. You're a difficult taskmaster," he says, jabbing me in the gut. His grin is devious.

I pull him close. "Irrepressible smartass," I mutter into his hair. Reaching behind me, I flick the light off. "Goodnight Duo."

"'Night, Waffles." And he gives me a light kiss.

I groan. "I really hate that nickname."

He laughs.


	36. Chapter 36

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: This chapter was written mostly last night, so it gets extremely odd for a while, as I was hyper. –grin- Sorry it has been so late! Enjoy! And I will be changing the rating to M by next chapter. _

**Chapter 36:**

I wake up to the dull ache of muscle soreness, something I haven't felt in years. Then again, I used a lot of muscle in ways I'd never really used them before last night. So I can't really complain. I certainly _won't_ complain, anyway.

Duo shifts in my arms and sighs in his sleep. He is the reason for the muscle soreness. My skin feels hot and tight as I recall last night's activities. Nope. I _definitely _can't complain. Wincing, I shift closer to him and secure my arm more snugly around his waist. I don't want to get up. Not yet. I want to enjoy this moment. And perhaps I'm afraid that if I get up, I'll find that it was just a dream.

I've become such a fucking weakling. And it's all Duo's fault.

Speaking of which, he chooses then to awaken. I know this because he gives a noisy yawn and elbows me straight in the jaw. I hiss in pain and rub the spot. He gives me a startled look.

"Er… morning."

"Morning," I grumble.

"I wasn't expecting you there."

I give him a skeptical look. "Where exactly were you expecting me?"

He shrugs. "Um… sorry?"

I bury my face in his hair. It smells faintly of mint this time around. I could get used to the fragrance of my shampoo in his hair. "I'll live."

"Well, I figured that much."

I find it unbelievable how he can make a grin so audible. Rolling my eyes, I give him a light shove- not enough to push him clean off the bed this time, though I'm tempted. Very tempted. "You're okay?"

He nods. "Just a bit sore." He shifts, then winces a bit. "Okay, _really _sore."

It's my turn to apologize. "Sorry." I didn't want it to be an unpleasant experience for him. Well, for either of us.

With a snort, he adds, "I didn't say I particularly minded, stupid."

This makes me feel hot all over yet again. As expected, I do not mind this time around.

My stomach rumbles then and his answers back, killing whatever moment we are having. Duo snickers. "Sounds like we're hungry. How about making me breakfast in bed?"

"Not on your life," I reply dryly.

He snorts and rolls his eyes. "You're a spoilsport, Waffles. Speaking of which… I think I'm going to have some waffles for breakfast, assuming there are some left. _And_ assuming they aren't covered in freezer burn." He wriggles out of my arms and clambers to his feet, scrounging for his discarded shirt. I spot a lump of clothing in the corner by the door. Damn, did that thing fly…

"It's over there." I say, pointing it out.

Duo whistles, apparently as impressed as I am, and retrieves it. "I'll see you out there then," he says, pulling it over his head and heading out the door.

Does he _really_ intend to eat those foul frozen waffles?

Regardless, it is morning. And despite the fact that I hate them, I suppose I ought to get up. So, I slide out of bed and get dressed, trying to get my mind- which is jumping giddily from one thing to the next in a matter of seconds- under control again. I blame Duo for this as well.

When I'm finished, I head down the hall, into the living area, Yuy is standing before the television, eyes fixed on the morning news program. Even from the side, I can tell he is deep in bitter contemplation. On the screen are images from the assault Winner and Barton executed on a shipping port in Scotland. It looks as though they're just a hair's breadth away from getting their ass' kicked. It might have been another victory to add to our belts, but it apparently was an extremely narrow one.

The scene cuts away and the anchor rambles on about how, once again, the Gundams escaped and that anyone with information regarding their whereabouts should contact such-and-such place during such-and-such hours. The fact that they are still being searched for relieves me. Apparently, they got away safely.

I glance at Yuy again, who is still staring at the screen, brow furrowed, as dancing kittens sing about some wonderful brand of cat food. With a grimace, I say, "'Morning." I may not be terribly fond of him, but I'm capable of being mature.

He glances over his shoulder, gives me a once over, then nods, turning back to the screen. "Morning," he finally replies in a way implies he doesn't often greet people, morning or otherwise. That he'd rather do anything but greet me. I hold back a glare. I know he's more anti-social than I am, but what the fuck is wrong with him? Here I am, being the bigger man here, putting aside my dislike for him to be civil. I _am_ supposed to work with him every now and then, after all. I do see him on nearly a daily basis.

This makes things very awkward.

I study him for a moment longer. He seems as rigid as ever, eyes focused on the television screen once more. He shifts his weight then from one foot to the other and back again.

Yuy doesn't shift his weight in such a manner for nothing.

Dammit… Without saying a word, he said it! His body language screamed what he did not verbalize. That slight discomfort. Duo and I made no effort to be quiet last night. Of _course_ he heard. What does one say to that? 'Sorry for the noise?' This is highly doubtful.

The hair guy has a suggestion of his own. Something along the lines of 'Don't even fucking _think_ about it, bastard. He (especially that hair of his) is mine.'

Of course the final choice is up to him, the logical side in my mind points out. Again.

Without a further word to him, I head for the kitchen. Duo is at the table, tearing waffles into little bite-sized clumps and dipping them into a jar of strawberry jam. I watch him for a moment and I'm glad I don't eat strawberry jam.

"Don't people use maple syrup with waffles?"

"I don't like syrup. Strawberry jam tastes great on waffles anyway." He glances at me and grins wickedly. "Say Waffles…"

I glance at him, then at the jam. Oh hell no. I shake my head adamantly. There is no fucking way…

"Come on, I just want to see if my theory is correct!" He's getting out of his chair now, jar in hand.

"No."

The wicked grin grows. "Aw come on-"

"No!"

"Are you afraid of a little jam?"

I shove a chair between us. "You will not-"

"I think you _are!_"

"I am not frightened of jam! That's- that's ridiculous!"

Duo sets the jar on the table with a loud 'thump', seizes the spoon he'd been using for his coffee, and scoops out a gelatinous red lump from the jar. "Here Waffles," he croons softly, as if calling a dog. He emphasizes this by adding "Here boy!" He skirts around the chair I set between us. I circle away from him. The tip of his finger seizes the edge of the spoon and he sets it up in his hands, catapult like.

"Don't you dare! Don't even _think_ it!"

"Well, it's obviously too late for that warning. I've already thought it. It's now simply a matter of _doing_ it."

"I said don't you dare!"

With a laugh, he crows again, "Waffles is scared of jam!"

"I am not- don't you _dare!_"

We circle the table now- him stalking after me with that damned spoonful of jam, me trying to keep out of the way. There is no way in hell I'm going to stand by and get attacked by this… _jam!_

With a yell, he charges after me. I bolt for the door, only to skid to an unexpected halt when Winner blocks my exit, aiding an injured Barton. Duo slams into me from behind and I feel a sticky 'splat' hit the back of my neck. Ugh. I can feel it drip sluggishly down my shirt. Winner and Barton are staring at us with startled expressions pasted onto their faces.

"Morning, guys," Duo says, sidling up next to me. "Welcome back. How was the mission? You hungry?" He holds the spoon out to them.

"Morning. Thanks. Disastrous. And yes, starving," Winner groans, tossing an errant strand of hair out of his face. An ugly bruise is forming under his eye. "We haven't eaten since we left. Let me through. I think Trowa wrenched his knee. And he weighs about as much as his Gundam right now," he adds with a faint smile to Barton.

"I don't."

Duo and I step aside so the other two can hobble through. The left leg of Barton's bodysuit is rolled up over his knee, which had swollen to about the size of a watermelon and mottled with sickening shades of red and black.

"How did this happen?" Yuy asks, coming into the room unannounced. Winner is disturbing the freezer and Duo is making coffee for everyone, so I set to attempting a breakfast of toast and eggs. After thoroughly scrubbing the back of my neck to get that damned jam off of it, of course.

"Heavyarms took a direct hit to the side of the chest cavity," Barton grinds out, accepting a bag of ice from Winner. "We fell." He gestures to his knee. "This is the result."

Yuy crouches next to him, prodding the injured knee whether Barton wants him to or not. The only sign of his discomfort is the way his face takes on a sickly pallor as Yuy prods a particularly sensitive spot.

"You're letting the eggs get rubbery," Duo mutters in my ear as he passes with a pot of coffee.

Distractedly, I look down at the foul smelling lump of yellow in the middle of the pan. I suppose he's right.

"Heero, will you call Dr. Po?" Winner asks, grasping Barton's leg by the ankle and lifting it gingerly onto a chair opposite him. Barton hisses in pain, clearly feeling more at ease expressing his agony before Winner than Yuy.

Yuy looks about as reluctant as I do when it comes to contacting that mad woman, but he nods and disappears. I set the plate of overcooked eggs and slightly burnt toast before the two of them. "I apologize for the condition of the food. I have been… distracted this morning."

Winner glances between Duo and me. "How've things been since we left?" he asks in a nonchalant way. Winner. Nonchalant. Right.

"Good," Duo and I reply in unison.

Winner stares at us, then smiles, exchanging a glance with Barton. His smile disappears as a serious look passes between them. Barton shakes his head minutely and Winner frowns in response.

Duo and I glance at each other as well. He shrugs. "Want some coffee, Trowa?"

"That's fine."

Apparently, whatever was the topic of their silent conversation had no affect in stopping Winner, because he suddenly says, "Duo… I need to talk to you."

"Quatre," Barton says warningly. I watch the two of them suspiciously.

Ignoring him, Winner waits until Duo has given Barton the mug and then drags him from the room. Barton sighs quietly and shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee. There is a slight frown on his face. With a frown of my own, I sit next to him.

"What's that about?" I make sure he is aware that he can't slither out of answering me.

Barton looks at me for a long time before sitting a little straighter. "I suppose you ought to know too. It's only fair to you."

I close my eyes and turn away. Let me guess. "Yuy's changed his mind?"

"Mm."

Dammit. I knew it. I fucking knew it.

There is a rustling and Barton sighs. "Quatre… being himself, figured it out before he did." I glance at him. His expression is a cross between irritation and fondness. "And Quatre, being himself, dragged the confession out of him. Yuy's a bit jealous that Maxwell is with you."

"He should be," I mutter before I can stop myself.

Barton regards me seriously for a moment before continuing. "He apparently wants the chance to get Maxwell back."

"Why is Winner telling Duo this in the first place?" I grumble. That just makes Yuy's victory that much easier. Damn it all to fucking hell!

"Well… to let him know, I suppose. He's not doing this to spite you, despite the fact that even I can admit it looks that way on the outside. I guess he is preparing him, in case Maxwell feels like he still cares for Yuy. I think Quatre figures it is best to get this over with now, then let you get in too deep with Duo, in case Duo happens to go to Yuy."

Well it is too late for that.

Too.

Fucking.

Late.


	37. Chapter 37

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Just a note to anyone who gets updates for this story by the story or author alerts- I've noticed the alerts haven't been functioning properly, so if you're really interested in this (or anything else ongoing at the moment) I'd recommend checking every once in a while, just in case. _

**Chapter 37:**

Preventing me from getting in too deep with Duo is like preventing the sun from shining. It's too late, it happens all on its own despite one's best intentions, and only stops when it happens to supernova.

And unless I'm assigned a mission in a Threatcom Delta area, I don't foresee myself blowing up.

Self-destruct won't be a success either, as, with my luck, Nataku's self-destruct command will mysteriously just _not _work.

Barton is watching me. I nod stoically. I knew this might happen. I was only temporary. I am okay with it all.

Except the fact that Duo is going to seek out Yuy. Because that is what was going to happen all along.

Damn the both of them.

Getting to my feet, I wrench the pan I cooked those foul eggs with off the stove and shove it into the sink, lathering up a rag with soap to clean it. How dare Yuy change his mind as if Duo is something to toy with when he feels the need. When things were going _right_ for once.

Go to hell, Yuy. Go to the furthest, sickest, most terrible circle of the most horrible Hell that exists and suffer for fucking eternity.

I scrub the pan with more vigor than necessary. I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I'm not angry. Not at all.

"Will you be okay, Chang?"

"I'm busy." Goddamn stubborn eggs. My assault on the pan becomes more vicious. Eggs are the spawn of all things evil. Impossible to clean up and foul to smell. This is why I don't cook them for myself.

Goddamn eggs!

Again, I have to force myself to take a deep breath.

"Chang."

"I believe I told you that I am busy, Barton."

"And I asked you a question."

"I am fine. I am fine. I will be fine." I press a wet hand to my forehead. I must calm down. Barton was just preparing me for the inevitable. As the saying goes, don't kill the messenger. Kill the one who sent the fucking message. "Thank you for informing me of this."

He doesn't respond.

Seizing a clean rag, I dry my hands. Inclining my head slightly, I dismiss myself from the kitchen. No need for me to continue making a fool of myself in his company. I pass Winner on my way out, but, despite the fact that he instigated the current chaos, I'm unable to feel any anger or resentment towards him. Just a mild irritation.

He gives me a weary look. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "Forget it." I know that he is only trying to ease any potential hurt or conflict. To separate us now before we get in too deep, to steal Barton's words. That's just Winner's way. We fight the enemy, not each other. Or some bullshit like that. And, who knows, this might be for the best.

Goddammit, who am I kidding?

I almost head for the living room, but I can see the back of Duo's head on the couch. Where the rest of him sits as he appears to be watching some highly opinionated news program. Uncomfortable with approaching him at this time after learning what Barton had to tell me, I turn on my heel and, instead, head outside.

The air is crisp. Autumn, it seems, comes early to this quiet town. With only a week away until the 'official' start of autumn, the leaves are already starting to turn. I happen to enjoy the season more than any other. To many, it symbolizes old age, preparedness to die. To me, despite the fact that leaves are falling left and right, it is crisp. And cleansing. Getting rid of the old in order to start anew.

Is this supposed to be some sort of sign?

I sit down and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with what you might call fresh air. Air on Earth probably hasn't been fresh since the invention of the factory, but it beat recycled air from the colonies by a mile. And so I breathe, closing my eyes and folding my legs, resting my hands limply upon my knees in a meditative state, trying to calm down even a fraction. Behaving in such an asinine manner never does anyone any good. Besides, it certainly wouldn't make him stay.

It could make him leave, though.

_Why _do I have to be so hung up on him? He's just a person. Just a loud, irritating, over-talkative person who managed to worm his way unwittingly into my very being. A loud, irritating, over-talkative person with whom I am obsessed.

No, that's not the right word anymore. It's beyond obsession.

I'm in love.

Love.

I, Chang Wufei, love Duo Maxwell.

I admit it. It is true. It makes me feel delirious and ill, hot and cold, and completely wonderful. I should tell him. I _have_ to tell him. Maybe that will sway him. But even the thought of it makes me freeze. And I realize I can't. Love? Maybe not. If I can't even tell him, then it can't be real. If I do love him, my own inhibitions wouldn't matter. It would be him. Only him.

I'm talking circles around myself.

I hate these fucking maybes!

"Wufei?"

"Why can't you bastards just leave me alone!?" I yell, opening my eyes.

Dr. Po, standing before me, arches a brow. "Upset about something?"

"What are you doing here?" I mutter.

"Another house call. For one Trowa Barton. You boys are a disaster waiting to happen, I swear."

"He's inside."

"You should be too."

"I'm fine, thank you."

She frowns and sits next to me. "Is something on your mind?"

"Don't you have a patient inside?" I counter crisply.

"It's not safe to bottle your anxieties," she points out, ignoring me completely.

"I'd prefer to be left alone, if you don't mind," I say through gritted teeth.

Finally, she gets the hint. Climbing to her feet, she sighs theatrically and disappears into the safehouse. It is about fucking time. Damned nosy woman! Leave me alone! My self-pity is mine alone to wallow in. No one else is allowed to know it exists. My hateful weakness. One of many that I'm beginning to discover about myself in this emotional trek called Duo.

A breeze picks up, carrying straggling leaves across my path. In the distance, a cat yowls, whether mating or fighting I don't know. But it makes me think of last night. I had sex with Duo. I don't think it was intimate enough to refer to it as 'making love'. Regardless, it had been good. But it is starting to feel like such a long time ago, though it's currently only mid-morning. He was the partial instigator last night. But he was at least borderline drunk. Would it make a difference? Did it?

I feel like some angst-ridden girl contemplating the potential loss of her boyfriend after he 'got the milk without paying for the cow', so to speak. In many ways, I suppose I am. Excluding the girl part.

What the fuck have I become?

I hear the door behind me open. Damn that infuriating Po woman.

"I said mind your goddamn business or I'll shoot you in the chest!"

"Sounds painful."

I freeze. Beside me sits a familiar profile. "Duo…"

"What are you doing out here, Wufei?" He plops down next to me, hugging his arms to his chest as if he is cold.

"Being alone."

He snorts. "No shit."

"You asked. I told you."

"I suppose I did."

The following silence cuts a great chasm between us. I shift my weight in agitation. With him. With myself. With this maddening silence. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Can't a man enjoy the fresh air?"

"If you can call it that," I mutter.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see him glance at me, brow arched. "Something the matter, man? Or do you just like starting arguments?"

"I wish to be alone. Go away."

"Wufei-"

"Go. Away." I say it firmly, but my voice quakes at the end. Damned weakling… I clear my throat and look away.

Surprisingly (or perhaps not so), he listens. With a loud huff, he gets to his feet and heads inside. The door doesn't quite slam, but it _is_ closed with considerable force. I lean back against the square column supporting the bit of roof extending over the weather-beaten porch.

He's mad. Even _I_ am not oblivious enough to miss that. But it's probably better this way. If we end this mad at one another, no one will be hurt. The hair guy starts to object but I mentally threaten to blow his head off and he shuts down promptly. Folding my hands together, I set my elbows on my knees and rest my forehead against my fingers.

Why him? Why did it have to be _him_? Why did it have to be _any_one? I don't need this! I don't need it. I don't…

Dammit.

It shouldn't hurt like this.

I could blame Yuy for this. But that would be ridiculous. It's not _his_ fault I'm obsessed with Duo. I can't blame Duo either. I can only blame myself. And my fucked up feelings. I should have been strong enough to avoid this.

But I wasn't. I'm still not. I will probably never be. Weakling.

And now look at me.

Heh.

Nataku, I could really use a promise of death now. Now, before I lose even more of my honor.

I don't know how long I sit there. At least half an hour. Contemplating my own death. Trying not to think at all. It's getting chilly, despite the fact the day is carrying on, and should on its way for an ironically pleasant afternoon just to spite me further.

Behind me, the door opens for a second time.

"You're still out here?"

Po. She sounds skeptical.

"It appears that I am."

"You should probably head inside." She sounds unperturbed by my sarcasm.

"I am fine where I am."

"Wufei-"

"You are interfering in what is none of your business, woman." I snap. "And I will have none of it!"

Her hand suddenly closes around my chin and she yanks my head around to face her. "When you prove yourself capable of keeping yourself at least marginally healthy and safe, I'll leave you boys alone."

I jerk my head away, scowling. How dare she. "This is a personal matter, woman. You are treading on dangerous grounds."

"Is that a threat?"

"You would be wise to see it as one."

"You need to learn that the world is not out to get you."

"And you need to learn your place," I retort sharply. "My personal matters are not yours to meddle in."

I felt Dr. Po's hand smack across the top of my head with considerable force of her own. "Don't think you can intimidate me. You don't threaten those who are simply concerned about your well-being."

I don't need her concerned about my well-being. I certainly don't want it. But I shut up. My pride has been wounded enough today and it's not even noon.

She walks by, finally leaving me alone. "Take care of yourself, Wufei," are her departing words.

Yes. I'll take care of myself. I'll take care of myself right off the nearest cliff.


	38. Chapter 38

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: To the reviewer "Of no real importance" (and to any one reading this fic), I truly appreciate you pointing out my error in Chapter 25. I hadn't been imagining the actual structure of the door when I'd wrote that scene (and, if I paid attention to how the scene itself actually plays out in my head, it doesn't make sense for the hinges to even be on the outside visually), and I'm disappointed in myself that I had made such a ridiculous error! I _have _fixed that scene. I'm sorry for the mistake._

_Secondly, I apologize it took so long for me to post this chapter! I've been ultra busy with dance and I was hit with quite a writer's block. As we are coming into the home stretch (I only foresee two, maybe three, chapters left), I don't _think _it'll be too much of a problem. I will try to have the next chapter up by Thanksgiving, but I am heading out for the regional Irish dance champs that day, so we shall see. Enough of my b.s. On with the show! _

_snowdragon: Thanks for the lovely review and wonderful compliments!! I hope you continue to enjoy reading!_

_okay... I'm done now. Really._

**Chapter 38:**

As if he is five years old, Duo ignores me for most of the day. I guess I'll be honest. I can't blame him. I was particularly short with him and he's got Yuy. And I'm ignoring him as well. Why not? He doesn't need me anymore. I don't want him to need me anymore, if it's going to be like this.

Dammit… this self-imposed pity is going to be the end of me.

Get your priorities together, Chang!

I want to seize my subconscious between my teeth and shake it like an angry dog. This is a _war_. There is no room for petty affections of the heart. One or some or _all_ of us could die tomorrow. Or tonight. Or right this very minute. And would this affection save us? Would it change anything? No.

The hair guy tries to speak, but I have him bound and gagged in the corner of my mind, shoving him further and further away until I can forget he exists. Or I get shot out of the sky. Which ever comes first. At the moment, I don't even care which it will be.

Currently, I've holed myself up in my room to avoid Duo completely. Just as well. About ten minutes ago, I received a mission that I am expected to execute within five days. It will get me out of this safehouse. Anyway, I've always preferred going over the minute details in silence if I could manage it.

The silence seems more suffocating now.

Goddamn Duo.

I've become so used to sound.

With a frustrated sigh, I slam my laptop shut and glance at the clock. 10:13 pm. I'm having no success with mission planning, so I might as well turn in for the night. Early as it is. Maybe a good night's sleep will clear my head enough for me to function like a proper man. Instead of some … fool.

So I get ready for bed, then climb in, and, after mentally bludgeoning the hair guy who tries to escape to point out what an ass I'm being, turn off the light. And I stare towards the ceiling for nearly twenty minutes as sleep eludes me, hovering in the corner of my mind. Mocking me. With a growl, I fling my arm over my eyes, willing myself to go to sleep.

Of course that doesn't work. That never works.

Perhaps the age-old option of counting sheep?

One sheep.

Two sheep.

… Sixteen… forty-five… three hundred four sheep…

_No!_ That simply makes me loathe sheep even more than I do currently.

Meditation. Meditation calms and soothes the mind and body. Meditation will work. I take a deep breath. Meditate…

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat. Empty your mind. Don't forget to breathe. Breathe. Goodbye to unwanted thoughts. Clear head. Breathe…

Unfortunately, that doesn't work, as someone lightly knocks on my door.

It only takes me one try to guess who it is.

Taking a deep breath, I feign sleep.

Coward!

I hear the door slide open.

"Wufei?" he says. Duo.

I don't answer. He follows up almost immediately with an aggravated sigh. I don't know what he is doing. I don't even attempt to look. I will cave if I look. I must remain strong, right?

Right?

_Coward!_

Shut up shut up shut _up!_

After what feels like an eternity, the door closes. I open my eyes. He is gone.

I groan, running my hands down my face. What am I doing? I never feign sleep. I'm not supposed to stall, to balk, to avoid confrontation, to hide. And I'm not supposed to be jealous of a fellow pilot. Particularly one who is one of my allies in this war. Jealousy is for the weak-minded. I am supposed to meet my conflict head on, with confidence and assurance. I am supposed to forge lasting contacts with said allies because someday in the near or distant future I will be forced to call upon them. So _what the fuck am I doing?_ My clan would turn away from me in shame at my blatant cowardice. At my foolish jealousy. Hell, _I_ want to turn away in shame. But everywhere I turn, _there_ I am. Within my own mind.

Chang Wufei.

Elite soldier of the Dragon clan.

Fearless Gundam Pilot 05.

Big.

Fucking.

Jealous.

Coward.

I believe I've thought something similar before. Unfortunately, it doesn't make it any less true. It just reinforces my disgrace.

I roll onto my side and stare at a wall I can't see through the dark. Sleep, I sense, will continue to elude me for a long time to come.

----

Clean underwear… check.

Nighttime sneak-suit… check.

Infrared goggles, fully charged and in working order… check.

Dao, sheath, and blade sharpener… check.

Various weaponry to conceal upon my person, should the need arise to defend myself with more than simply my bare hands… check.

A cache of detonators and their switches… check.

I tuck my supplies neatly into Nataku. Everything within easy reach. Everything exactly where it should be. Now to grab a bottle or two of water and a brief lunch to take with me. My grumbling stomach reminds me that I had ignored breakfast in my haste to get this mission over with.

That's what I tell myself anyway.

I climb out of Nataku's chest cavity and leave the garage. It's silent, for once quite peacefully so. The kitchen is blessedly empty. My nerves feel shot and I don't think I could handle social interaction with any sort of grace.

I open the cupboard and grab the quickest lunch I can- which happens to be a brown packet of rations, and stow it and a couple of water bottles into a small sack. With a frown, I grab a second rations packet just in case. There is no such thing as too prepared.

"Going somewhere?"

I freeze. Fuck. Duo. Taking a deep breath, I skirt around him in search of… I don't know… my sanity? "Yes," I say as curtly as possible.

"Where?"

"Mission."

"Yeah, well I could've guessed _that_ one."

"Then why did you ask?"

A hand grabs my shoulder and whirls me around. "What's gotten into you? You've been a complete ass these last few days!"

"Have I?"

He stares at me for a long moment, apparently surprised, and scowls. "Stop being a smartass."

I said I couldn't handle social interaction with grace. Best get out now while I still have a shred of control on my temper.

Where has my self-control gone?

I move to turn away, but Duo won't have it. Grabbing my shoulders again, he holds me in place. Anger stirs in my chest like a very agitated dragon being awoken from a centuries-long nap. "Will you _excuse_ me? I have things I need to finish before I leave."

"No! Not until you talk to me."

The dragon snaps at the air. "Get out of my way."

"Wufei-"

That is _it!_ I can't stand here any longer! That angry beast within rears its ugly head. I push Duo out of my way. If he won't leave, I will _make _him leave. But I am foolish to assume he is just going to stand there and take it. He's a Gundam pilot for fuck's sake. There is a crack and my head whips to the side, cheek throbbing where he punched me. He fucking _punched_ me!

"You are not going to run away from me, you dumbass! If I've done something wrong, you are going to tell me or… I'll hit you again!"

I glower at him. I just want to be mad. "I have a mission to take care of so you had best get out of my way. Be perky and happy somewhere else!"

He scoffs. "So _that's_ your problem? I'm too… _happy?_"

"I'll go with that. No one in our line of work is that happy. Unless they are… I don't know, consuming drugs or something."

"Drugs? _Drugs!?_ You think I'm-" He holds up a hand and glares at me. "And what makes you think I'm so happy? Me? _Happy?_ Do I _look_ happy to you? Does _this _look happy!?" His voice is getting louder by the moment. Apparently, his own angry dragon is waking up. "I _thought_ I was, but I'm sure as hell not anymore!"

This is it. "You want to be happy? Is that what you want?"  
"Why not? What's wrong with being happy? _Clearly_ Mr. Stick-up-his-ass doesn't know the meaning of the word. Apparently he must be drugged to be happy!"

I want to hate him. "I don't need you." Is that a lie? "Go be happy somewhere else." I want him to hate me. "Maybe you'll be happy with Yuy!"

Duo's jaw drops for just a second. He looks as though he's realized something, before pursing his lips into a thin line. "Maybe…" He thrusts his finger into my chest, as if defiant. "Maybe I will be."

I want to forget any of this ever happened.

"Fine. Go. I am not standing in your way."

I want things to be as they were. When I thought he was just another obnoxious person I was forced to work with.

He stares at me.

When ending this war and getting the hell away from the rest of them were my only goals.

With a final scowl he turns and stalks from the kitchen.

When things were normal and I wasn't such a fucking disgrace.

I swing my bag over my shoulder and stalk out as well.

When I didn't love him so much.


	39. Chapter 39

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: Thanks again, snowdragon, for the lovely review!_

_And though it is my intent to end this story by chapter 40 or 41, I've probably just cursed myself with a longer story as a result of the development of GIMP (as you will see later in the chapter). We shall see. _

_And Oh, Injustice is going to be translated in to Portuguese! How awesome is this? I've gotten a lot of firsts as a result of this story! Okay… enough gushing… on with the chapter! _

**Chapter 39:**

Infiltration has never been on of my favorite tasks. I've always preferred face-to-face combat. It's honest. Honorable. And I don't have to worry about making a sound when I shouldn't or revealing my cover by a slip of the tongue or hiding like a coward.

Unfortunately, this suddenly seems even worse now that I am doing it alone again. What few noises I _do_ make seem infinitely louder, somehow, since Duo's not here to make his own noises.

Stop thinking like this, fool!

My head must remain clear. I've made it this far into the compound. I can't lose now. This mission _will_ be a success.

Through the greenish haze of my goggles, I see a soldier who _should_ be on guard instead of sleeping in a chair. How arrogant of him to be so lazy on the job. As if he doesn't think it is possible that someone would attack _this_ base, not when _he_ is on duty. And certainly not at this time of night. His superiors will not be so pleased to find out he let a Gundam pilot slip through.

Why don't they just invite me in for tea and scones if they are going to be this lax about security?

As I pass him, I depress my thumb on a pressure point in his neck. He slumps over further, any fidgeting he had been doing ceases. Just to be safe.

I open the door beside him and enter the security office, removing my goggles as I do so. Two men are watching the numerous screens, capturing scenes around the compound. I pull out a gun nestled at the small of my back, held in place by the waistband of my pants.

"It's about time you showed up-" the first man says impatiently, turning towards me. "Son of a bitch."

I cock the weapon, training it on him. "Step away from the consoles."

The man beside him moves as well, pulling out his own gun.

Reaching into my pocket, I remove my detonation switch. "Drop your weapon or this port will go." Yes, I'm bluffing at the moment, but they don't know that and I certainly won't be in a few hours.

The second man seems to doubt me so I direct my gun on him. "I am a quicker shot than you. Face the fact that you have lost. Drop your weapon. I will not tell you again."

I am satisfied to hear the sound of the gun hitting the floor but I don't put it past either Guard One or Two to have hit some sort of alarm, notifying the entire base of my arrival. Crossing the room, I drop One before he can blink. Two puts up a fight, punching me straight in the mouth and coming quite close to kneeing me in the groin before he joins One, unconscious on the floor.

I rub my mouth, tasting a bit of blood, wondering if I'll need to see a dentist after this is over, as I step over the guards' bodies towards the console. There is a speaker squawking on One's belt. Stooping, I grab it.

"Gregg. Gregg! What's going on in there?"

"Everything's all right. Just slipped, over." I hope that suffices and, lo and behold, it does. For the time being, anyway.

I'd come into this mission with a fairly good idea of where the cameras' blind spots were, and by the looks of the old footage, I'd been correct so far. But I need more than blind spots to carry out the rest of this mission. I work quickly, feeding a fifteen second video loop into the cameras. My hope is that when the two guards regain consciousness, they will either assume they dreamed this entire encounter and go about their business never knowing of my sabotage, or they will send out troops to search for me, though by then I will have finished my job and there will be no visual evidence left behind.

The halls I need to navigate now show nothing out of the ordinary and will continue to do so until someone figures out what I've done. Good.

I glance at the two guards on the floor. The ridiculous scheme that comes to mind at the sight of them lying there, unconscious, is something I thought only Duo could devise. I stop myself. It would jeopardize my mission if they were to wake up in a compromising position they _truly _aren't expecting to be in. But I am tempted. Sorely tempted.

He's influenced me far too much.

I step over the bodies and exit the room. The guard at the door is awake now, but not for long. He hits the floor before he even gets the chance to turn around.

I drag his fallen body into the office as well, before shutting the door firmly behind me. It is time I headed for the compound's main offices.

The next hallway is sparsely lit, negating the need for night-vision _anything_. Removing my goggles, I tuck them in a small sack looped over my arm and make my way quickly across the grounds. Or as quickly as possible without being seen. Security is fairly heavy, as this port is preparing for the arrival of many members of OZ for an important meeting, but it is light enough to signify that the guests aren't going to be arriving for another few days.

If it was any other mission, I'd set timed explosives to go off partway through their meeting. But Khushrenada is scheduled to make an appearance. And that madman still appears to be a saint in the eyes of the public so until we can make him lose face there isn't much we retaliation can coordinate. Assassinating a (mostly) well-liked leader in the face of his damned organization would have the peoples of Earth rising up against the colonies and the colonies rising up against us Gundam pilots tenfold. And we don't want to go through that again.

I break into one office unnoticed. It isn't hard. It isn't even locked. And no wonder. The computers I find within have no useful data, except the ETA of numerous flights the following day. Making this a complete waste of time. I make short work of that office before I head out. With a quick look around, I leave the room, making my way towards the next office on my mental list.

Speaking of anything mental… The hair guy, I realize, has been quite since I left him bound and gagged in a dusty, unused corner of my mind. Has he finally given up? Maybe. Good riddance.

The squeak of approaching shoes is the only warning I get. I whirl, arm raised defensively just in time to block a blow aimed for the spot between my neck and shoulder. My assailant's fists fly with the accuracy of a trained martial artist. But I am better trained. And he is not dressed for hand-to-hand combat but for walking around indoors, patrolling for intruders that are not supposed to actually get in. I duck his blows and land several calculated blows of my own. Finally, his feet, with their squeaking shoes, slip out from beneath him. He falls hard and I am on him within a second, knee digging into his chest, open palm pressing his throat in, chest heaving in surprising exertion. He may have been a lesser warrior, but he did manage to hold his own against me. And I imagine if he was proper attired he might've lasted longer against me. But the outcome would be the same.

His hands flail and claw at my hand as he gags noisily, trying to entice me to release him, but I am stronger. And without oxygen, what strength he has fades fast. Finally, his head lolls limply to the side, a speck of spittle dripping from the corner of his mouth. Disgusting. I release his throat and stand. I don't envy the pain he will be in when he wakes up. Well, assuming he wakes up.

Hauling the man's body over my shoulder, I stagger to a nearby bathroom and dump him inside an empty stall. He certainly has weight to his advantage.

When I emerge again, I take care to glance about carefully, keeping my mind focused on the present. That damned hair guy can wait until later. No one will sneak up on me again. This mission needs to be taken care of first and foremost. No more distractions.

I head for the next office, finally, and this is the one I've been looking for. Of course, it is locked. Unlike the last time I had to pick a lock, the locks on this door are electronic and therefore password protected. Scowling, I unscrew the faceplate and reroute the wiring so it opens as if under the force of an emergency override, wasting precious time. Once open, I hastily replace the faceplate and slip into the office. I methodically comb the office, searching for… something. I hack into the nearest computer. The only hint I had received from the doctors was that OZ had been hinting at the development new mobile suit technology. Something so extreme, it would be devastating if they were to implement it without us being prepared. Unfortunately, there is plenty of information on new bits of technology stored on their computers. I download some things onto my drive, knowing that it isn't exactly what I'm looking for, but it's useful just the same.

There is a folder labeled GIMP tucked neatly into several folders that would've been a pain for most people to navigate through. Light encryptions and cryptic file names are no hindrance to me. Frowning to myself and casting a glance over my shoulder, I try to open it. Password protected. Bastards. I can break it, but it is still more time wasted. Opening up a decoder program from my disk, I let it decoding the password.

Ten minutes. It takes _ten _minutes to break into the folder. If that is not a sign that this is what I'm looking for, nothing is. Unfortunately, when the folder opens, the files within are warped with extremely intense encryptions. It's another twenty minutes before I finally decrypt all the files and I am starting to feel the strain. The longer I am here, the more likely I will be caught. I can't be caught. I know that whatever is in this file is vital to get to the doctors.

I scan the decrypted files as they download onto my disk with a growing sense of horror. GIMP, an acronym for Gundam Internal Malfunctioning Protovirus. A protovirus, something I've never heard of (though I can guess the severity of it just by dissecting the word), that can somehow be transplanted into a Gundam to force an internal breakdown rendering us helpless against them, should it work. From what I can tell, it is partway through the development stage, just months away from testing.

OZ is cracking down on their soldiers to stop us.

I don't know if the doctors are expecting something like this, but I certainly didn't. For our sake, I hope they are. I may know something about repairing Nataku and even making a few upgrades, but I've nowhere _near_ the knowledge, resources, or time to plan, complete, test, and install a device that could possibly combat this… protovirus.

Damned fucking OZ…

I finish loading the files onto my disk, slipping it into my sock, and exit out of the computer, erasing all tracks of my presence as I do so. And finally, I load a nasty virus of my own onto the computer that, within a few hours (if it remains undetected), will weed its way through this entire compound's mainframe and basically bring their day-to-day operations to a grinding halt. And destroy the GIMP file, of course. While I'm certain this computer doesn't contain the only copy of those plans, it is still one more jab we can make at OZ.

Unfortunately, this is not the end of my mission. I have one last stop, as the weight of detonators in my bag reminds me. One final jab in OZ's presumptuous eyes.

I exit the office. Sliding along the wall, I concentrate on finding the darkest shadows to slip into. Wraithlike. My goal now is their storage facilities. Now _that_ I can obliterate without worrying too much over the colonies' reactions.

My trip takes me outdoors again, but I forgo my goggles this time. Lighting outside makes it easy enough to see by, and I don't need them hindering my line of sight, should I have to fight.

The air is cold tonight. My breath hovers over my face in white clouds. I take care to breath shallowly through my nose as I race across the grounds in a ridiculous, crouched run. Dammit. Even I, who prefers to work alone, know this would be better off a partnered mission. But the fact that it's so trying and demanding of my attention keeps my mind focused on my goal. For once. I slip into the near-black shadows jutting out from the left of the nearest storage facility. A pair of guards patrol the doors. I lean against the wall, assessing my possibilities. I can either take out the guards and hope it doesn't cause a commotion or I can set the detonators around the building's perimeter and hope for the best. Unfortunately, I could do the most damage if I were to get inside the building. Of course, it has to be the more insane of the two options. Mind made up, I leave the shadows.

"What the-"

The crackle of a speaker. "Intruder alert!"

I don't think so.

I grapple with the closest guard. He's a dishonorable fighter, using dirty tricks that I myself know but certainly wouldn't dare use. A shot is fired carelessly in the dark. Fools! No more playing around. They must fall. Quickly. This thought drives me on and the two men fall to my bare hands.

I no longer have time for careful tactics. My cover is now blown. To be honest, I'm surprised it took this long. Drawing out my gun, I shoot several rounds, blowing the lock off the storage unit and I race inside. Detonators out. I take time only to ensure that they are set correctly, placed under half-developed shuttles and mobile suit parts. No time to place them in any strategic order. With what time I have, more is better.

There are shouts now outside the unit. I swear under my breath. Not now not now not now! I set the last detonator. All right. Time to get out. Yanking my gun from its concealment, I race back into the chaos occurring outside. Get out of this mess, blow the goddamn building up, get to Nataku, and get the hell out of this country- that's my objective.

A man dives at me the moment I step out the door. Rolling with his weight, I fling him over my shoulder and keep going, firing my gun into the crowd accurately enough to disable some if possible, kill if necessary.

Madness.

Chaos.

_KILL!_

A burning pain rips into my side, knocking the wind out of me, causing me to stagger back in surprise and sheer agony. An instant patch of blood blooms onto my shirt.


	40. Chapter 40

**Oh, Injustice**

_AN: One more chapter to go! I swear this time... Now who believes me? -sheepish grin-_

_Snowdragon: thanks once again for the wonderful compliments! And may your inner voice become as amusing as Wufei's! -grin-_

**Chapter 40:**

Film, television, and any other media one might come across have it all wrong. To keep going after one has been shot is one of the hardest things to do.

And dammit… being shot hurts like hell.

Of course it does, fool!

Dammit.

Fucking dammit!

The last thing I want to do is continue to fight. The wound burns more each time I attempt to move. It hurts so much…. Almost a paralyzing kind of pain. But I must keep going. The shred of knowledge that I have to get out of this compound alive just long enough to deliver the files to the doctors quite literally forces me to continue fighting.

Keeping as low as I can, I run in an erratic pattern trying to avoid as many bullets and well conditioned soldiers as I possibly can, getting as far as possible from the storage facilities before I detonate it.

Another pain explodes in my shoulder. I want to shout. Not again. Blood that feels fire hot against my cold skin trickles down my back. It hurts. Move. _Move!_ Keep _moving, _goddamn you!

Clumsily, I fumble for the detonation switch in my pocket. It's now or never. There are screams. The entire compound lights up from the explosion. I don't remember pushing the switch, but there my thumb is, gripping the button like it's my life support. It probably is. Some of the shooting stops. But not all of it. No, of course not. There will still be some who try to follow me. They _can't follow me._

There are only a couple rounds left in my gun. I don't have time to reload.

I have to make extremely good use of what I have and get to Nataku before I run out.

As if that will happen.

----

Escaping remains a blur. I remember getting to Nataku. Lots of pain. Too much blood. And managing to contact Dr. Po, requesting we rendezvous at some location or another in an hour and a half. The flight itself is as if it was completely wiped from my memory.

I remember Po's reaction though, when she saw me. Complete with screeching voice, she said "Jesus Christ, Wufei! If you weren't nearly dead already, I swear to God I would kill you right now!"

I can't remember much after that, either. Fragments of memories, strangely distorted pictures, bright lights, and alternating loud and soft sounds.

It's amazing I can even recall _that_ much. Po has me stuffed so full of painkillers and antibiotics that simply moving my head makes it swim. My mouth feels like cotton. I try to speak but I lack the energy so it comes out as a weak groan. Which sounds more like a faint squeak.

Wonderful. More weakness.

With a second groan, I lift my arm to rub some wakefulness into my face. It takes a lot more effort than it ought to and I feel a tug at my side and in my shoulder. Cracking an eye open, I glance down and see that nearly my entire torso is covered in bandages.

"You're awake. How do you feel?"

I glance over to see Dr. Po hovering to my left. She looks extremely displeased. "Ugh…" is the only response I can muster, but 'ugh' is exactly how I feel. I don't even care that I am hooked up to what feels like half a dozen IVs. That _must_ be a testament to how I feel.

"Well, you should. Shot twice. Sprains and bruises. You lost a good amount of blood. You arrived half in shock." Her voice is growing shriller by the moment. "It's a wonder you even made it to me _alive!_ I have half a mind to…" She exhales forcibly and shakes her head. "No, I'll simply berate you later." She begins to examine me, reading the various machines to which I'm attached and jotting down notes every once in a while with the occasional, aggravating "hmm".

"How long?" I finally manage to croak.

"How long what? Were you out? Do you have to stay here?"

I nod to both questions.

"Well, you went under surgery nearly as soon as you arrived- in your condition, we couldn't wait for you to stabilize. Probably three days. Give or take a few hours. Miraculously. You boys are outrageous…" She rubs her eyes wearily and I wonder if she has been awake the entire time. Probably close to all of it, most likely. "As for how long you're…" Her expression becomes severe. "You will remain here as long as I see fit. You are going to do this properly. I will not have you running home just so you can go out on another mission without properly healing. You've become extremely careless lately. I've never seen you injured so frequently."

I know. "Distracted."

"You can't afford to become distracted in a war. You'll wind up dead. Or at least injured as frequently as you are now."

I _know_.

"What's distracting you?"

Despite my condition, I feel heat in my face. Of course she had to ask that. She's a woman. Women are such gossips! Hastily I look away from her.

"Mm… love interest." Her tone sounds far too knowing (and amused) for my liking. I take note of her choice in words too. Instead of girlfriend she used love interest. It makes me wonder how much she knows… or apparently guesses.

I feel a pat on my knee and I glance at her again. She has a maddening smile on her face.

"Well, I'm sure it will work out in the end. If you manage to keep yourself alive that long." Though she says that last bit sternly, she still sounds thoroughly amused.

I roll my eyes at her. With the way I've been and … well, why bother reiterating the rest? It's unlikely, woman.

Highly unlikely.

----

Po keeps me in her hospital (and under her thumb) for nearly three weeks while I recover. Mainly because I managed to reopen my shoulder wound during the light physical training regimen she put me on. But also because she seems to be under the impression that I will immediately jump into another mission the second I get home. Well, I know my body well enough to know that I will be out of commission for probably a month. Unlike a broken leg, recovering from bullet wounds seems like a far more arduous task and I don't think I'll mind simply staying in bed for another week or two.

But the wounds have started to scar over nicely and it is finally the day when Po is ready to release me.

"Where is Nataku?" I ask, after a quick but gloriously refreshing shower and breakfast.

She shakes her head firmly at me. "You will not be taking yourself home. I will have a transport drop you and your Gundam off. I don't want you near that suit until you're fully healed."

Now that is a bit much. Nataku couldn't hurt me. "But what about-"

"No."

"But-"

"Ap!"

"I-"

"Zip it!"

Damned blasted infernally evil woman!

I grab the sack containing my old, abused, filthy clothes and my gun but Po snatches it out of my hands seconds later.

"No you don't."

"I am not helpless, woman!"

"I know you're not. And I respect that. If you'll notice, we've forgone the wheelchair you so admirably balked over." She gives me a stern look. I scowl at her. "Now move it!"

So I move it. We meet up with the pilot who will be returning me home, a young man who looks thoroughly amused with my condition. I don't even glare at him, which would bring me down to his level. But I really want to do so.

"All right Wufei, this is Sanders. He'll be taking you back to your safehouse. He's trustworthy," Po adds when I give her a skeptical look. "And when I say that, I mean he's trustworthy to me as well, so don't do anything stupid or I will find out!"

Sanders chuckles, taking my bag from her. "Ready to go, invalid?"

"I'm not an invalid!" I snap, following him to the transport.

"Lighten up, kid. I'm only teasing."

I purse my lips and he grins as if this is entirely too funny. Though it's obvious he's at least ten years my senior, I feel so much older than him right now. I'm not sure if that's a good thing. He invites me to make myself comfortable or he might have to hogtie me to my chair. He is joking. I think. But either way I don't know what hogtying is… and I have no desire to find out either.

The flight is a long one. After promising I wouldn't actually do anything strenuous, I go check out Nataku. She is still in good shape, which I'm glad to see. The cockpit, however, smells heavily of blood, _my_ blood, and it makes me a bit nauseous, so I can't remain. I manage to log in an hour or so of sleep, but it's a restless one. As we get closer to the location of the safehouse, I feel increasingly claustrophobic. About an hour and a half from the safehouse, I start to pace.

Sanders insists I sit down.

I try.

I attempt to meditate to calm myself. But my mind keeps jumping back to that house. I can't stop thinking about it.

Or more specifically Duo.

And Heero.

That conniving bastard.

Though yes, it was a good deal my fault as well.

Before I know it, I'm on my feet again, pacing as if I intend to wear a hole in the transport floor.

"Pacing isn't going to help you get home faster," says Sanders, glancing at me over his shoulder. He smiles, as if to comfort me. "Just relax."

"Don't bother yourself with me."

"Listen, just sit down-"

"Do not tell me what to do."

He arches a brow. "I'm simply trying to help."

"This helps."

"You're getting really worked up. Calm down."

I glare at him. "Perhaps strangling you will calm me down!" I all but shout.

"Someone has a temper."

He is right. My temper is getting the best of me. Or my nerves are. Taking a deep breath, I sit down. "I apologize. I'm just…" I pause, searching for the right word. "Anxious."

Sanders shrugs. "Just don't make me have to report back to Sally. She gets kind of crazy when people don't follow her 'doctor's orders'."

He didn't have to tell _me_ that. But sitting, waiting for the inevitable to happen does not help. At all.

Remaining time: one hour.

I've resorted to gripping my hands in my lap. A few times I think I've cut off the circulation.

Remaining time: thirty minutes.

I try to meditate once more. I'm calm. I truly am. But Sanders keeps throwing me concerned glances. Until I snap at him.

Remaining time: ten minutes.

I know the safehouse is in the distance. It's dark, but I know when we fly over it, heading for the wooded area where our Gundams are hidden. And, for some strange and unknown reason, a sense of finally calm washes over me. Almost useless now.

I wish I could understand it.

I really wish I could.

Finally, we land. With the help of Sanders, we get Nataku well hidden. He insists that he must accompany me back to the safehouse. He'll carry me if he must, he says.

No thank you. I will walk.

Carry me. _Indeed_.

The return walk to the safehouse seems to take longer than usual. The terrain seems rockier and unsteady. The air seems colder. It seems to take so much more energy.

"You know where you're going, right?" I hear Sanders mutter beside me.

"Yes." The moon is full tonight, so it offers decent lighting. Besides, I could probably find my way back blindfolded. We've come and gone from this same safehouse often enough.

Clumsily, I stumble over a root. Fucking hell! When did that get there!?

Sanders grabs my arm to steady me and loops it over his shoulders. "I really meant it when I said I'd carry you if I had to," he says in a way that is supposed to be intimidating.

"Carry me and I'll shoot you in the heart," I mutter, though I _am_ grateful for the support.

"Right now, I find Sally more intimidating than you."

"You probably should," I mutter.

He laughs out loud at this. "You're one funny kid."

"I'm not funny. I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Whatever." And he drags me on our way with me giving half-hearted directions.

And then…

There it is. The safehouse.

I'm home.


	41. Chapter 41

**Oh, Injustice**

**Chapter 41:**

When I checked the clock in the shuttle, it was well after two in the morning. My guess is that by the time Sanders and I approach the safehouse, it's nearly three. Everyone will be asleep so I hope that no one mistakes Sanders or me for intruders. I've been shot enough recently, thank you.

I fumble with the keypad and, when the door unlocks, he pushes it open, half dragging me inside. There is a light on in the kitchen. I stand corrected. Someone _is _awake. Wonderful.

Despite the fact that I'd rather _avoid_ any confrontations with my comrades, Sanders drags me over. I am nearly blinded by the light.

"Wufei!" Winner is the first to shout. He jumps to his feet, flinging a handful of cards onto the table, his game with Barton forgotten now that I've returned. "It's about time you arrived."

"We'll take him from here," Barton says to Sanders, standing as well.

"I can do the rest myself," I mutter. Honestly. It's just a short trek down the hall to my room. I think I'll survive.

"So he says, but he nearly fell over on his way up here."

I swear I'm going to kill Sanders the next time I see him. "I tripped over a root that wasn't there before," I mutter through gritted teeth.

Winner chuckles. "He'll be fine, all right."

Barton grabs my arm, taking Sanders place, and helps me to the nearest chair. It makes me feel like a complete invalid.

"Sally instructed me to tell you that he is not to be anywhere _near_ his Gundam or his laptop for another month. And if he happens to get any other missions before then to take them yourselves or she will come after you with her surgical knives."

Winner smiles. "I don't doubt she would. We'll keep that in mind."

With a nod to Sanders, Barton shows him out. Meanwhile, Winner turns to me, still smiling. I eye that smile warily. Despite it, there is a vein popping out of his neck. I sense he wants to yell at me. His restraint is admirable.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were when Dr. Po called us, saying you'd been shot twice and she wasn't sure if you'd even live through your surgery?"

"No. But I'm a soldier. You shouldn't worry about that."

"Oh no. Of course I shouldn't!" He turns away from me. Is he done? "What were you thinking!?" he explodes, whirling towards me again and grabbing my shoulders. Giving me a firm shake. Okay, so apparently not. "Or not thinking!"

I sigh, feeling very heavy. Like some sort of failure. "I don't know."

"You don't know. You don't _know?!_ You-"

"Quatre…" Barton says warningly.

Winner takes a deep breath and seems to calm down instantly. Still, I continue to watch him with a wary eye. "Right. Right… sorry." He takes another deep breath and grinds out, "You already _know_ that you've been a complete idiot-"

"Quatre!"

He winces. "Okay. I'm sorry, Wufei. I mean it this time. Do you need anything?"

"To go to bed and forget my life ever happened," I mutter.

"Well, we can help you get to bed," Barton says. "I'm not so sure about the forgetting bit."

I glare at him, not at all amused, though he said it with a straight face. "I can get there myself."

He shrugs.

"What did you recover from the mission?" Winner asks, finally sitting down again.

I'd almost forgotten. Well, actually, I _had_ forgotten, until he asked. So I tell them about this GIMP program and what it will do, my estimates of when it will be completed, and my concerns that the doctors won't be prepared.

They took the information about how I expected them to. I can tell just by looking at him that Winner's mind is already hard at work, trying to devise his own ways to possibly counter this potential onslaught. Barton accepts it without much reaction at all, safe for a brief 'hmm' and a furrow of the brow. Then, of course, they demand that I hand over the data I retrieved so they could send it to the doctors.

"I can send it myself."

Barton gives me a look. "If you recall, Dr. Po expressly forbid you from going anywhere near-"

"Are you truly going to hold me to that!?"

Winner pins me with a look of his own.

Grumbling, I fish the disk out of my pocket and hand it to him. "Shall I ask one of you to carry me to bed since I'm so incapable of walking?" I ask with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

Winner rolls his eyes at me. And then we both make surprised noises when Barton actually picks me up, over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

"I didn't mean it, fool!" I yell. Winner is laughing as if this is the funniest thing in the world. I tell you, it is nowhere _near_ funny.

"Then don't ask for it," Barton says flatly. "And keep it down, other people are sleeping." But he doesn't put me down.

Damn him! This is humiliating! Winner is still hysterical. "Put me down or I swear I'll kill you!"

"Okay." Down the hall he walks. Apparently he doesn't believe me. Winner bursts out into fresh peals of laughter.

I scowl. "Well I'm glad you find me so hilarious, Winner! This is a great indignity. And it's terribly uncomfortable. I'm bleeding!"  
"Are you?" Barton asks.

Damn him. "No."

"You have to admit. You deserve a little indignity," Winner says as Barton opens the door to my room.

"I will kill you all," I mutter. Then Barton deposits me on my bed quite gracelessly. This time it _does_ jar my wounds. I wince.

"Go to sleep," he says.

"Yeah," Winner adds. "We'll see you in the morning." He grins. "Maybe you can walk by then?"

I scowl and throw the nearest heavy object at them- my alarm clock. But they are gone before it hits its mark. With a frustrated sigh, I flop back against my pillows. I don't even have the energy to get up and retrieve the damned clock. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I guess it was wise to have Barton carry me. But it won't happen again.

I yawn hugely and it is then how tired I realize I am. Certainly more tired than I would've guessed. Sleep, I suppose, will be a good thing.

As I close my eyes and invite sleep in, the hair guy emerges healthy and well- though who knows _how_ he managed to escape my mental restraints-, reminding me how disappointed I was that Barton and Winner were the ones who waited up for me.

Damn hair guy.

----

I can feel myself starting to wake up, very slowly. I feel strangely disoriented. There is no hum of machinery or beeping monitors. All I hear is the quite hum of an air conditioning unit. Slowly, I open my eyes and stare up into darkness. I drape my arm over my eyes as familiarity sinks in.

Home.

Or the safehouse, at least.

I have no clear idea of the time, as my clock is still where I threw it, so it is either quite early or extremely late. Though that depends on one's perception of early and late, I suppose.

I ache and feel positively miserable for the most part. But I'm no longer tired. My stomach growls voraciously at me. I guess it's time to get up and eat. So I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and stagger weakly to my feet. Miraculously, my clock is still in working order. Bending over, I pick it up and glance at the time. 3:37 am. I wince. Did I really sleep through at _least _an entire day? I set the clock on my night table and finally leave the room.

The hall is quiet. As is the kitchen. It's a nice kind of quite.

I make a simple meal as I'm not actually hungry for much- just enough to silence my stomach. Ten minutes later, I have a bowl of instant tomato soup with a sad little quarter-stalk of celery and I carry it out into the living room, where the sofa, lumpy though it may be, is more comfortable to eat upon. And there is my laptop on the rickety table across from me. Duct-taped shut. I scowl, setting my soup aside. Winner or Barton must have snuck into my room while I was asleep and taken it. And I must've been _dead_ tired not to wake up when they entered. Glancing around, wondering if this could be a trap and yet not caring, I grab my laptop and rip the tape off. I swear. Someone is going to _pay_ for this. Literally. If there is any damage to my laptop, they are going to buy me a new one.

I boot up, wondering if they simply taped it shut or went as far as locking me out of my own computer. Nope. Taping it shut is as far as they got. Better for them then. I log into my real user account. And scan the desktop. Everything looks in or-

Wait a fucking second…

There is a new icon. It's an inconspicuous thing and if I wasn't looking for something new, I would've never noticed it. Very plainly, it says 'click me'. Frowning, I give into temptation and click. I wouldn't normally recommend doing such a foolish thing because who knows what sort of hazard could be residing in such an innocent little button. A full-screen animation pops up. As I watch, I become aware of two things. First, I realize that this is that this is not Winner or Barton's handiwork. Second, I realize that it is _Duo's_. How do I know? The animation is of an animated Duo kicking an animated _me _in the head. Over and over. And getting an indecent amount of glee from doing it. Underneath it scrolls the text 'Way to go almost getting yourself killed, dumbass!'

I think it is pretty safe to assume that this is _his_ creation.

I don't know whether to be amused or angry. Either way, I'll need to create a new password, considering Duo managed quite well to hack through this one. I exit out of the animation and stare at the desktop, finally eating my soup, which is now lukewarm. I hear a noise. Though it's likely just the house settling, I won't take any chances. I slam my laptop shut. I don't know why I take the precautions because they'll know I've been into it, regardless.

With nothing else to do, I finish my soup, wash the bowl, and head back to my room. In the hall I hear more noise, but it's not the settling-house kind. They are moans and gasps and something banging against the wall. Coming from down the hall. From Yuy's room?

My blood runs cold. What the fuck have I done?

With a groan of my own, I enter my room and hastily shut the door behind me, blocking out the noise. Duo is Yuy's. Duo is Yuy's. I saw this coming so why is it driving me so crazy?!

I grab a book on Eastern Philosophy from my shelf and attempt to read. But I can't concentrate on it. All I can think of is Duo and- no! Read. Philosophy is… Asian cultures- What? Dammit, I'm skipping paragraphs!

The hair guy starts to chant and at some point, I join in. Mentally, of course. I hate Yuy. I hate Yuy. IhateYuyIhateYuyIhateYuy I. Hate- Dammit, Wufei! Read the goddamn book!

I fling my book in the air with a shout of surprise when a knock on my door startles me out of my rage. I stare at the door, wondering if I heard right when another knock comes. I blink. Who would visit me at- I glance at the clock- four in the morning? Winner, no doubt. "It's open."

The door slides open. But it's not Winner who walks in.

"Duo?" Even the hair guy is silent in shock.

There he stands with a pillow clutched in one hand. But… But…

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to have a talk with you." He crosses the room.

"But-"

He awkwardly folds his arms over his chest, still gripping the pillow. "What do you want?" he asks me sternly.

"I could ask you the same thing- ouch!" He smacks me over the head with his pillow. "What was that for!?"

"For being a dumbass! I would've punched you except you were shot and I have a little sympathy for that. Now what do you want?"

"What are you talking about- ouch! Stop hitting me, you bastard!"

"Like I said, I _should_ be punching you! I certainly want to. Now what do you want?"

"What do I…" I finally get it. Though I don't understand _why_ he's asking me this. What do I want? Him. Just him. Well, okay, and for Yuy to suffer a grievous accident… But I won't be greedy. "What do _you_ want?"

He whacks me with the pillow again. "Next time you ask me a stupid question, I think I really will punch you!"

"Duo!"

"I asked you a question."

"But-"

He holds his pillow up to intimidate me. "My answer does not matter right now. I asked _you_. What do _you_, Wufei, want?" He lowers his pillow, giving me the most serious look I think I've ever seen him give anyone.

"I-" Ridiculous. The words get trapped in my throat. I look away. "Why aren't you with Yuy?"

This time he really does punch me.

"Goddammit Duo!" I think he hit me hard enough to rattle my teeth. I taste blood. "What do I want? I want you, dammit! I want _you_, okay! I don't want you to go to Yuy!"

"Was that so hard to say?"

"Yes!"

He frowns hard. "Why?"

"Because… because…" So it has come to this. It … has come to this. I look away. "I love you, Duo. And you… you look at Yuy and…" And he looked at him in a way that I can't imagine him looking at me. Another thought occurred to me. "Weren't you with him?"

Duo, who I found had been staring at me wide-eyed the entire time, blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Out there." I point to the hall. "I heard-" I am interrupted by the sound of his laughing. I glare at him.

"That… that wasn't me and Heero!"

"Then who…" Light bulb. Shut up you fucking hair guy! It is my turn to be surprised. "You're joking!"

"I don't lie."

"Winner and _Barton?!_"

"You didn't see it coming?"

"No." I must say I was more preoccupied with Duo than Winner and Barton.

He grins. "It was probably obvious from space. Trowa was trying his damnedest so I give him thumbs up for that. Though it did take Quatre a long time to come around. You know, this sort of relationship is frowned upon in his beliefs so it took him a long time to get over it and come to terms with what _he_ was feeling. Of course, you could say the same thing about the Catholic faith, but then I was never really a practitioner and I'm getting off track here…"

I snort. Off track is an understatement. I never asked for a rundown of their situation. "But you haven't answered my question. What do you want? Why are you here instead of with Yuy?"

Duo shifts his pillow in his hands and I sense he's going to hit me with it once more. But he doesn't. Instead, he hugs it to his chest and looks a little sheepish. "You will likely think I'm an ass-"

"I already think that."

"Look you, I'm armed here." He shakes his pillow firmly. "And I am not afraid to use it."

"I didn't say I wasn't one either."

He snorts and then shakes his head slowly. "All right… I didn't give you slack so I don't expect it either." He heaves a great sigh. "Well… after you were a complete asshole and left for your mission, I tried to make things work with Heero-"

"Tried?" I ask stupidly.

"Hey, I'm still talking here. Anyway," he continues with an impatient wave of his hand, "what do you know? The second I realize 'hey, Heero actually came to _me_, this is great!' I realize afterwards that everything he does I compare to someone else."

"Who?" Again, stupidly. The hair guy makes several jabs at me.

He hits me with the pillow for the hundredth time. "You, you _moron! _And for some reason he just didn't do things _right_… and I didn't know why. And _then_ you had to get yourself shot not once, but _twice_ and Sally tells us you just might die and I can't stop _thinking_ about it. Thinking 'what will happen if he _does _die?' and 'my God, what an ass, getting himself shot!' and 'why am I even caring, he was such a bastard anyway'. Then she tells us you're going to be fine, and you'll be coming home on such-and-such a date and I'm watching the news with Heero and I can't decide whether to kick your ass or be totally relieved that you're still alive. And then I wonder how awkward your return is going to be. And I'm literally counting down the hours. And _then_ you had to go and be late and sleep through the entire next day when I'm going out of my _mind_ before I finally realized something."

There is a point to it? An end? My head is spinning now from this conversation. Even the hair guy is being talked in circles. And I think _he _generally understands Duo more than I do.

"I realized that… shallow as I probably am for doing this, I'm thinking more about _you_ than Heero now. Your mission is complete."

"My mission…"

"I've forgotten all about him. Well… you know… figuratively."

"You've forgotten-"

Shaking his head, he holds up his hands to silence me. "Don't parrot back to me, Waffles. It makes you sound like an idiot."

"One of these days I am really going to kill you," I mutter.

He smirks. "Now that's not a very healthy start to a relationship."

I glare at him. "Neither is bludgeoning me with your pillow."

"Touché."

A strange bubbling of emotion fills my chest. I almost feel like crying. Almost. I swear, dammit! I'm not having delusions, am I?

"You okay man?"

I blink rapidly. I'm not going to be some ridiculously weepy woman! "Fine. So this means…"

"Exactly what you want it to mean," he says. "Now scoot over. Unless you want me to freeze my balls off."

"Heavens no. We can't have that happening, now can we?" I move over to give him room.

Duo crawls into bed next to me. Slaps his pillow next to mine. Flops his head onto it, making himself comfortable as he looks up at me with a cocked brow. "Stop the jokes, Waffles. They freak me out." Then he tugs my arm and I lay down again beside him, drawing him close. It's awkward at first. But then he sighs and thrusts his back hard into my chest like he did once before, twining his fingers with mine and I realize…

It's going to be okay.

The hair guy is curled up inside, purring contentedly.

Maybe Justice wasn't out to get me after all.

_Fin._

----

_I would like to thank everyone who read and reviewed Oh, Injustice and stuck with it all this time! I hope that you enjoyed the ride! It turned out so different than I had originally planned (and so much longer! I was certain I'd be done by chapter 13, and look at it… 41 chapters… wow), but that's how writing sometimes behaves. And I certainly enjoyed writing it! I really hope this is a fitting end. It felt right to me, but I know a story can be ruined by a crappy ending… Anyway, again, thanks everyone! _

_One question: Would anyone be interested in reading a sequel? I have a few ideas so **I have included a teaser** (!), but I won't actually post it unless people are interested in reading it (which, I will admit, is an unusual question for me to ask because I believe in writing for oneself first and foremost but I don't want to overdo this story! -grins-)_

_snowdragon: once again, thank you for the review! I'm so flattered that you're not really hopelessly addicted to this story. -grins- I hope the reunion is fitting!_

----

**Teaser: Currently untitled:**

Wufei finally wears jeans out of his own volition. And frequently. Which, for him, means _maybe_ once a week. Twice, if we're lucky, and if I'm really well behaved. But twice a week is extremely rare. (Apparently, I don't behave.) I tell you, it wasn't easy getting him to this point. He's very particular about what he puts on his body. Not too tight, not too loose, just the right texture, length, weight, color, and so on. We once spent a week going from store to store, searching for the perfect jeans. Spending some eight hours a day, for seven days straight, shopping for jeans is not my idea of a fun time. Especially when Wufei chooses to be so damn picky. But we finally found a store… one store in an _entire_ city that carried jeans to satisfy his Majesty (which I call him with all the love in the world… And it drives him up the wall. Please ignore my grin.). I made him buy at least six pairs, in case the shop chose to go out of business. Knock on wood. I don't really want to go through this again. I don't think he does either. But, that day, I learned something I never knew, never would've even _guessed_, about Wufei. Dearest Wufei has _extremely_ expensive taste. Because he really is very simple when it comes to provisions and lifestyle, it embarrasses the hell out of him, so naturally I tease him about it. Relentlessly.

But I'm glad I persevered. Now I get the occasional fine view of well-fitted jeans pulling tight over a firm rear-end when he crouches down. I catch that view now as he squats near a beat up bookcase, flipping through a dictionary. I tilt my head to appreciate it better. A very fine view indeed.

Don't get me wrong. His usual choice in clothing (most distinctly Chinese garb) is really quite attractive on him. Particularly those black silk slacks with matching embroidered shirt. Even more particularly when he hasn't buttoned said shirt. Or has forgotten it all together.

Is it unusual that I find it hysterical and, at the same time, endearing that he is unaware of just how hot his body is? Because I do. The creep just doesn't get that he is Sex-on-Legs.

Again, I mean 'creep' with all the love in the world.


End file.
